Given Unsought
by soxx
Summary: Lilly visits family in Tennessee for the entire summer, in which fate decides to visit Lilly. Liley. AU. May become M.
1. Embarkment

**Disclaim: I don't own Hannah Montana, or it's characters. Nor do I own The Notebook, Brokeback Mountain, or the Titanic and it's characters. I do not own NJ Legion Iced Tea by A Day to Remember.**

**Alright, so, this is totally AU. Miley's mother never died, she never moved to Malibu, Hannah Montana doesn't exist (although Miley still loves music.) Lilly is still best friends with Oliver, but also everyone else mentioned. **

**This idea has been swimming around in my head for a while, and I've tried to start quite a few times but I think this way is best. Hope you like it, and all feedback is welcomed/appreciated.**

-

"_Love sought is good, but given unsought is better."_

_-William Shakespeare_

-

Everyone falls in love someday, but you can't ask for it. I wasn't really asking for it, well, obviously I wasn't, seeing as to how hard it bit me in the ass, but that's the rule: It happens when you least expect it.

I never understood what the eager, hungry kisses performed in The Notebook or Brokeback Mountain were supposed to mean, and I didn't truly understand why Rose ran back to Jack in the Titanic. I got that she 'loved' him, but I couldn't compensate with what, exactly, she was feeling. Still, I always secretly wished I did.

The tears are dry, salty lines now and my head rests against the window as I gaze out into the black, bright red and white lights trailing by behind the ghostly shadows of darker cars, flying beside ours on the freeway.

And I think of her. I think of lush emerald fields running on so far they make horizon with the vastest stretches of cornflower blue skies, and the warmest cobalt eyes that I can almost still feel aimed at me, burning me up like nothing else. I'm in the warm waters, I'm wearing beads of the sun, her lips have branded my skin and really, amazing things don't happen to me often, but the way I couldn't forget her and the feelings she stuffed me full to capacity with makes up for everything. The event that I met her, the way god smacked me upside the head with the axis of my life, and spun me right around to see the other side, was the most gracious gift ever bestowed of me.

The tears are dry, but I can definitely feel some more stinging and the lump in my throat becoming sore again. I'm not in a box. I'm won't be trapped in this despair forever. Yeah, I'm heartbroken, but I won't be ungrateful about this. I promised.

I close my eyes to trap the tears, and go back to the beginning so I can read my favorite story all over again, just to calm me down.

-

"Well, guys, see you in three months," I bit out a little louder than necessary. I hear my mom sigh under her breath as she rounded the car to shove another thing we probably don't need into the already full trunk.

Oliver lets out a hoarse yelp and engulfs me in another hug. My vision is full of his baby blue shoulder and my nose floods with the scent of Tag. To attract the ladies, he likes to say.

"I'm gonna miff you fo mohch!" He tells my own shoulder.

"It's okay Oliver, I'll be back," I say with a light pat on the back as I motion for everyone else to detach him from me. I was mostly joking, but I knew the second I got homesick, I'd miss Oliver the most.

Amber, Ashley, Matt, Connor and Sarah pull him off and I hug them each one last time.

I give them a small, weak smile and I'm the last one to get in the car. Amber pushes the door shut, grinning at me sadly, and says again how much she'd miss me. I tell her the same as we began to roll out of the driveway, waving to them all as we proceed down the street.

When my friends were out of sight, I let out a hearty sigh and glared up into the side view my mom was looking in as I stuck my headphones in my ears. She caught my look and smiled at me hopefully. I gave her an extremely tiny smile back, fighting the urge to slam my head into the window because, god, I could not be_lieve_ she was forcing me on this trip!

I've been voicing my irritation and blunt rage towards her over stealing my one and only summer as a sixteen year old and making me waste it in fucking Hick Land, Tennessee, staring a cows and blades of grass for three fucking months enough for the past week. Time to be the bigger woman, Lillian.

We pull out of the neighborhood into town, NJ Legion Iced Tea blaring through my headphones, and I rest my head against the window and just observe.

-

I feel something jab into my arm a couple times, and open my eyes to find the car illuminated by the roof light, cutting through the nighttime. I turn to face Max, the product of my parent's infamous almost-divorce nine years ago. Whoops. Well luckily they worked everything out, and he seems to be their trophy for it.

"We're here?" I drone in a scratchy voice as I pluck out a headphone. It's only me and him in the car, the driver and passenger's doors open to what I find is a gas station.

"No, you've only been sleeping for two hours," he says to his DS, "Mom and dad wanted me to wake you up."

"Oh. Is there any food?" I don't know why I'm actually talking to my annoying little brother. I should be strangling him some more for the little stunt he pulled before we left the house. But of course, he only gets a slap on the hand for housing his dead, half-rotted mouse in my suitcase. Well, that's what he got from mom. I think my physical discipline was a little more effective.

"It's all packed away, but you can have my Pop Tart," he says, handing me the foil-encased pastries.

See? Now he's treating me right. I took a bite and surveyed it—you never know with Max.

I heaved a sigh. "Do you even want to go on this trip?" I asked him.

"Well, yeah. I like Uncle Dean and Aunt Tiff, and Chris, Evan, Darlene, Heather and all them."

Oh, did I mention I'm going to be living in a house with seven kids, the oldest being eleven? I don't care how nice the house is, last time when my parents baited me with that, it turned into a week of babysitting so mom and her little sis could hang out non-stop at the country club. God, I hate my life.

I put my headphones back in and continue eating. My parents get situated in the car and I fall asleep again, until we arrive at the airport.

-

I feel a little silly for expecting to land in a wooden shack instead of a large, glossy airport. Last time, we drove here. Not making that mistake again.

I tread behind my parents, tugging my hoodie down and following them out to the rented car. Despite how boring I knew this whole trip was going to be (seriously, though, _why _does it have to be the entire three months?!), I feel a childish sense of adventure swipe through me. I immediately stabbed and killed it—I wouldn't let my hopes get up only to die a tragic death.

We reach an unfamiliar gray Durango I feel strange buckling into, and my parents scanned the map together. I'm actually pretty happy they didn't go through with that divorce. I can only imagine the mess my mom would be without him.

I always wonder what, exactly, she feels when she sees him. I know what a crush is, but I hear it's nothing compared to true love. I wonder what my mother feels when she sees my father's tanned skin, wrinkles from smiling so much weathered into his face, or really, how she still finds his growing beer gut and jock-ish arrogance on everything attractive now. I've seen pictures of him when he was young, muscular, and tan, with an adorable grin. She says that's what reeled her in, but what made her stay was the beauty she saw in his heart, no matter how brash or hot headed he was on the outside.

I can't say I knew what she meant, but I would always nod and say, "Oh." I mean, my dad's a great guy, always inspiring and pushing to do better, which I know he only does to me to prepare me for life. But the truth is, whenever I imagine what love is like, I draw a big, fat blank. And it kind of frustrates me.

We race down the highway as I fall into my usual idea of meeting a gorgeous, funny, fun guy sometime in college, preferably a brunette with light blue eyes and I sigh.

That dream seems to bore me nowadays.

-

The house is golden yellow, but it's more calming than obnoxious. It has two stories, but the top is cut short width-ways to make an L-structure by side profile. In fact, if you look around the front, there's a balcony smack dab in the center of the top story, sitting on top of the bottom perfectly. It's surrounded by the familiar brown roofing. There's a huge wrap around porch, white railing tracing the perimeter, and the driveway comes into garage doors branching out from the side. From my seat I can see the pens of horses and pigs and cows over near the barn, and when I get out it definitely smells like a farm.

Three of my little cousins hang over short side meeting the corner of the railing, studying us curiously, while the some stand with Uncle Dean and Aunt Tiff.

"Hey guys!" Aunt Tiff chirps. She has chestnut brown hair contrasting my mother's pure blonde, and despite the age difference she's a little taller and slinkier. Uncle Dean is pretty buff, clad in clean carpenter jeans, work boots, and a red button-down shirt half tucked in. I resist the urge to snicker when I compare him to a male stripper in a carpenter's attire. It's a little awkward when I hug them both, but I know that'll melt away fast.

Most of the kids pelt themselves at me, and I say "Hey," to each one as I'm engulfed with warm, skinny, bony arms. I'm proud of myself for remembering all their names.

They lead us inside, but I glance back at the view. The sun is on the brink of setting, and I make a mental note to creep out onto the balcony later and watch it. No matter how much I hate this visit, I can't deny that the sight is gorgeous.

The little kids are zooming through the house, but I just head into the kitchen with my parents, aunt, and uncle, as they chatter and laugh loudly. Everything's busy and full, like a party. It's satisfying.

I take a seat on the wooden wrap around booth, bordering a large kitchen table swarmed with tons of dishes, dinner for us.

Aunt Tiff says immediately, "God, Lilly, you sure grew up." She doesn't have a country accent like Uncle Dean. Her and my mother are 100% California girls.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous, isn't she?" My mom says, and both of them gazing at me in a type of awe. My dad and Uncle Dean are talking about a football game. The two of them have been best friends since college—they met my mom and her sister together. The four of them are pretty close.

I hate when this happens, although I really don't. "Alright, enough staring." I chuckled, "How you doing Aunt Tiff?"

"Oh I'm doing great, honey, how 'bout you?" She says with a movie star white smile and deep red-violet colored lips.

"Not bad. It's really nice here." If she had asked a day or two ago, my answer would be a little different.

"Yeah, your mom told me how you didn't want to come, but we'll do a lot of stuff and have fun. Maybe tomorrow the kids can show you around the yard and take you into town and all?"

"Sounds good," I grin.

My mom chimes in, "See, Lilly? Told you you'll have fun."

I give her a fake, sweet smile, as Aunt Tiff and Uncle Dean round up their kids and my brother for dinner.

We eat, and every now and then one of the younger kids will say something that makes me feel like I'm in the audience of an episode of Kids Say the Darnest Things, or whatever. But the ham, turkey, burgers, scalloped potatoes, sweet potatoes, and even the cheesy broccoli are to die for. Southerners really know how to get down in the kitchen, man.

Aunt Tiff tells me, my mom, and my dad a hilarious story while I help clean up. I feel some jet lag setting in. When my mother sees this, she tells me I've had a long day and should go to sleep.

-

I slip into the plushy guest bed, extremely soft and squishy, just how I like a mattress. The window up above my bed behind me is propped open and a light breeze sweeps across my face.

I sigh, settling into rest-mode. But I'm a little peeved; I can already feel this becoming a tedious routine. I try not to look around at the mostly familiar room so I don't get sick of it.

I close my eyes. Soon, I'm skating, which I love to do but Amber and Ashley often interfere with to drag me out shopping. I'm flying down a hill secured to my piece of wood only by the grip tape and the gummy soles of my skate shoes. I could tumble off and break this; the peace, the flight, in mere moments, with the slightest adjustment.

I soar into dreamland.

-

**Okay, a little boring, but I wanted to introduce Lilly's dad, Max, and of course Aunt Tiff and somewhat Uncle Dean. I also wanted to show that Lilly's still herself, although without Miley, different. She seems a little OOC to me, actually, I don't know how Lilly would see things in her head, so I use how I see them, from a slightly more judicious standpoint, maybe? Whatevss. Things will probably start happening in chapter two. I feel like I rushed this, but I'm okay with it. What do you think? I can always make changes. **


	2. Day One

**Ughhhhh I just have an everything block!#$#$35458982$%KGKF! But I need to get this show on the road, seriously. &Please bare with the descriptive details, imo they're a pain in the ass to write and I know they're even worse to read:\**

I can see the block of sunlight lying across the blanket pooled around my legs before I even open my eyes. In fact, it's the reason I'm awake at… 10:02 am. Oh, farm life, how I love thee.

I snatch my phone from the bedside table, and quickly flicker through all…two of my unread texts. Well, if it weren't for the stupid Tennessee sunrise I would still be sleeping, which I'm sure my friends are doing instead of, y'know, texting.

_Yoo skaterguirl.. hows tn?! _That's from Oliver, from last night. Such a loyal companion.

_uh do you know wht book the summer readin is on?_ And that's from some kid that was in my English class last year.

I kick the blankets off. The room is as warm as it was under the covers. I sigh, and head downstairs, trying to blink the sleep out of my groggy eyes.

I hear conversation and chattering even at the top of the stairs, and start down them, neglecting to brush my teeth and wash my face. As childish as it is, I'm secretly satisfied to be surrounded by so much family. I feel at home already.

I enter the noisy kitchen, where my own little family unit as well as Dean and Tiff plus seven all turn their heads to me.

Every inch of the table is covered in plates of food. Who _made _all of this? I give a sigh-infused "Good morning," and immediately start piling French toast on my plate.

Once my mouth is stuffed to capacity, I take a moment to observe. Uncle Dean is telling my parents a story, Aunt Tiff is wiping off the face of the child she's sitting beside. Some of the little kids are babbling, like Max, and others are eating.

My eyes land on the oldest one, the eleven year old, Brooke. When I saw most of the kids yesterday, I was shocked to see how they transformed. Brooke changed the most. She got taller, and her voice got more mature, in the slight way girls' voices do. It's weird how fast kids grow up.

After Brooke, there's Taylor, and she's ten, and I have to do a double take because Taylor looks so much like Brooke. After Taylor there are the twins, Christopher and Carline, who are nine. They both have boxy little faces that will draw out into Uncle Dean's strong jaw. Then there's Lane, who's eight and a piano prodigy, Lorrie four years younger, and the youngest at two years old, Danielle.

To be honest, I kind of like them all. I'm not one of those people who have a soft spot for little kids, but my cousins are disciplined correctly, so they don't get all whiny all the time and none of them are too spoiled. If they were any other kids, I think I'd dread this already hell-ish vacation way more.

"So, Lilly how was your year?"

I gave standard answers to all of Aunt Tiff's questions. My parents and Uncle Dean hopped over to the little check up on my fairly boring teenage life and threw in some comments themselves.

"Lilly, wanna play football when we're done eating?" Christopher asked while I was in the middle of a sentence.

"Uh, sure." One nice thing about a ton of siblings is you always have people to do something with. Well, for the time being. They'll probably get all independent from each other when they get older.

I finish eating, and go back upstairs to change clothes and wash up for the day.

I unzip one of the suitcases at the foot of my bed. The fact that I have multiple suitcases reminds me of how annoyed I am we can't just spend a short little week or two here. I pluck out a pair of black cotton shorts and a pink t-shirt and throw them on along with a pair of beat athletic sneakers. I tie my hair up into a loose ponytail, and heave yet another sigh.

Well, let's look at the bright side. There's no possible way I could get fat having eight little kids to hang out with all summer.

-

I have to squint to adjust to the sun beating down in the open space of field surrounding the house like a grassy ocean. For the first day of summer, it's blazing hot and I'm sweating after I leave the porch.

All of my cousins and my brother are gathered a football field's length away, under the shade of a single huge oak tree. As I'm walking I realize it's slightly uphill, and eventually I can see the single neighboring house up the road, surrounded by trees and slightly obscured by a white fence running along the road.

The first thing I notice when I reach the tree is Christopher peering pointedly in the opposite direction of everyone else, rolling the football between his hands. I narrow my eyes and begin to ask what he's looking at until someone announces my arrival and _god _I'm hanging out with a bunch of elementary schoolers.

"Okay, me and Carly are choosin' teams," Chris says, and his voice actually kind of wavers.

Carly chooses me, then Taylor and Lane, and Chris gets Max and Brooke.

We play for a while as the sun beats down on us. Chris is almost as good as I am, which is kind of sad, but then again he and his twin are the jocks. Max is attempting to compete with Chris, and he's not bad, but Chris is just better. Brooke is fast, Taylor seems to be able to throw pretty well for a ten-year-old, and Lane is also making out well with scurrying along. I'm surprised when the girls get tackled they get back up and tackle just as hard as their brothers and Max. I don't bowel any of them over as much as lift them and drop them as gently as I possibly can—for the exception of Chris and my brother.

"It's hot, Chris, I'm getting a drink," Taylor whines eventually. She immediately walks into the house and everyone but Chris and Carly follow her.

The three of us sit under the tree Indian style while Chris squints up the hill like he was before.

Carly takes a dramatic, animated breath and… "Chris and Mi-ley sittin' in a tree," he swipes at her, and she hops up and continues, "F-U-C—"

"Wow, you're not seriously going to spell what I think you're gonna spell, right?"

Carly freezes and grins cheekily. "What, kissing?"

I laugh as they sit back down. Ah, sweet year nine… my personal age when I tapped into the wonderful knowledge of verbal profanity.

I look at Chris to see his cheeks dyed hot pink beneath his bowed head.

"So," I poke his shoulder. "Who's," poke, "Miley?" poke. Ugh, being around these little kids is definitely wearing down my maturity level… which is low enough to begin with.

Chris swats my hand away, as Carly pipes, "She lives in the house up the road, and Chris swears he's gonna marry her someday."

"No I don't! I don't even care about Miley," Chris growls lowly.

"That's not what you said in your sleep last night."

I chuckle, because that was actually funny despite the fact it came from a pre-pubescent know-it-all. "So can I meet her?"

"She might be at work," Carly says over Chris who begins to protest.

I pause for a second. Child labor, much? Then it registers Miley is an older girl. "Oh, an older woman," I wiggle my eyebrows at Chris who is picking at the ground. His entire face is now scarlet.

"Yup. You should meet her, she's really cool. Maybe you guys could be friends."

I instinctively think against it. Even though my cousins are kind of, somewhat cool, the coolest person in Hick Land would still be below the freaks back home on the social chain. "Uh huh," I say. Conversation terminated.

Or maybe not. "Wait—there she is," Carly says.

I watch Chris whip around so fast I thought he was going to throw his entire neck out.

I squint a football field's length away to scarcely make out long, tan, lanky legs and arms and brown hair.

"Come on, let's go meet her." Carly insists.

"Actually, mom did need me to ask for some brown sugar for a pie," Chris mumbles.

I shrug and suppress a sigh. Hopefully this girl isn't clingy, ditzy, or unable to shut up—my least favorite combination, and my basic opinion on any person that I could possibly fall into this situation with in this town.

I stare down at my sneakers while we walk across the road and along the fence.

My cue to look back up is when I see Chris's head snap down.

I get a closer look at this Miley. And I see why Chris has a ginormous crush on her.

We approach her from the side as she rounds her house. She's carrying a sack of something over her shoulder, and her arms I at first thought were lanky are actually lanky _and_ toned. As are her legs. I gaze at the dents in her calves and thighs absently.

"Hi Miley!" Carly greets cheerily.

Miley gives a jolt, and the load almost falls from her shoulder. She turns around and I see her face.

The first thing I notice is big grey-blue eyes. Then I see pouty lips and, strangely enough, I don't notice her one surprised raised eyebrow and other curiously descended one until last. Her face is round. Her hair is tied back, but a few strands have escaped.

It surprises me that she doesn't look like a complete hillbilly. She's wearing these really short light wash denim shorts and a kelly green spaghetti strap that's exposing a strip of tanned waist, and sneakers. What do I think of it? Sluggishly, a word begins to form, something to label this girl, but right when my brain goes to pluck it out, her lips part and out comes:

"Hey Carly. And Chris," he mumble-stutters a response, "and… who are you?"

Her thick accent throws me off a little at first. I immediately compare her to Jessica Simpson when she was in the Duke of Hazards. I think its the shorts. But Miley's accent is real, and her voice is kinda gravelly and _damn_, what kind of person is naturally this attractive without makeup after puberty?

"My name's Lilly…" my voice is soft and quiet and high, practically a purr. I have to say, I'm not usually this shy. I take a moment to analyze this and I find that I feel something like intimidation swirling in my tummy and head.

"She's our cousin from California. She's staying with us all summer," Carly jumps in, and I actually feel a little relieved.

"Oh, that's cool," Miley smiles politely. "Feel free to come over anytime."

My breath hitches a little as I pictured how, for some reason, delightfully frightening that promised to be. And at the same time, how badly I wanted to accept her offer and get to know her. I plan to pick that apart later.

"Okay," I couldn't wipe the cheek-splitting grin off my own my face.

For a moment it was silent, besides the birds twittering in the golden sunny distance, as I looked at Miley and she looked at me. I was still wearing a small smile, and hers returned, and as the sun glows at her I'm kind of gazing at this new pretty face as though I've never seen a good looking person before. As if there aren't herds of gorgeous girls in California. The funny thing is, she's gazing right back, but it feels more like she's sizing me up, silently with her big blue-grey eyes.

"My sugar needs some brown mom!" Chris shouts abruptly. I instantly begin snickering and have to shield my face with my hand. I feel terrible, but its hilarious to see my tough jock cousin act so dysfunctional just because he's in this girl's presence. Ah, young, one-sided love.

Miley shot him a confused look, and Carly translated, so Miley told him to go ask her mom.

Once Chris was gone, Miley gave a light giggle. "He sure gets weirder and weirder every day, dun' he?"

"Yep," Carly giggles.

I stand there looking from the grass, to Miley's knees, to Carly, and back to the grass again. It's green and luscious for miles, just like Uncle Dean and Aunt Tiff's yard.

"Lilly, we need'a show you the creek," Carly turns to me and says, just as the vast sea of grass was beginning to mesmerize me. A creek? Swimming? Hm, I do like to swim, but I know a tiny little creek can't make up for my case of homesickness for my Californian waters.

"Yeah, that would be so fun," Miley adds. A mental image of Miley in a bikini pops into my head without warning. I feel a beat of intimidation strike me again.

But "Sure, I'll go," plops out of my mouth anyway.

Chris appears with half a plastic bag of brown sugar, and watching the blood rush to someone's cheeks has never been so entertaining.

"Well… I gotta finish doing yard work. I'll see y'all around. Nice meeting you, Lilly."

Miley smiles at me again, but it was less polite and more honest.

Even though Miley has only smiled at me three times in the past ten minutes of my life, by the third time a pang of—what was it, alertness? Awareness?—felt strangely familiar. "Nice meeting you too." I still spoke in that low, girlish voice.

"Bye Miley," Chris and Carly say simultaneously.

As Miley lifts the sack back up onto her shoulder, I look to her face one last time. She glances back, and her eyes on me make me feel hot and alerted, like I had just stubbed my toe and the pain has yet to register.

The boredom factor of this vacation definitely just dropped a couple pegs.

-

I sit in between Brooke and Lane on the huge, maroon, wrap around leather couch facing the wide-screen TV. We're watching Spiderman 3, and _god_ this TV is huge!

I feel surrounded, especially with their two dogs, breathing damp and hot on my ankles. The one to my right is Rusty. He's an Australian shepherd, a white stripe from his stout nose down around his head, and rust brown and pepper gray-and black covering the rest of him. Beside him pants Rex, an all black lab whose head is level with my waist when he stands. Sweet dogs, though, I'm a dog person.

Spiderman's costume is being consumed with the black substance when I hear, muffled,

"_It's the means_

_Twenty-twenty surgery_

_Well, twenty-twenty surgery for cheap_

_Dollar signs doll up a picture perfect point of view…"_

I flip my phone open and am bombarded with multiple voices shouting, blaring into my ear. I hop up and amble into the kitchen, picking at some left over monkey bread on the counter.

I'm glad my friends haven't abandoned me yet. Warmth and contentment swells inside of me like I drank it down—or maybe it was the monkey bread.

Oliver's voice differentiates from the rest, I hear him shushing everyone. "Lillyyyy! How's Hick Land!"

I give a chuckle. "It's, ah, it's not all that bad," I say, as I move onto some lukewarm caramel fudge brownies. With whipped cream strewn around them.

"Really?" Oliver sounds surprised. I can hear Amber and Matt in the background.

"Yeah, the food is mad good, and my cousins are sorta fun. And they have a neighbor who's my age," I feel funny addressing Miley, kind of like… I don't know. Like she only exists here and talking about her to my friends across the country makes it like… ugh, I don't know. I'm wondering how things are back home and not about why this is, especially since it just gives my a head ache.

"Sweeeet, is it a chick?"

"Mhm?"

"She hot?" Matt butts in. I can hear an audible slap on his arm that's probably from Amber. They have this thing going on, and, yeah.

It takes a moment for his words to register. My face gets hot. "Uh…" I have eyes, and common sense tells anyone Miley is attractive. I already pointed that out within the thirty seconds I first saw her. Thinking about this makes me apprehensive with… with what? "I guess."

I ask them what they're doing and honestly, as somewhat not bad it is here, I feel extremely homesick as I'm talking to my friends, which is kind of stupid because… I'm talking on the phone with them. I just miss everything back home…

Large crashes pulsating through the surround sound tell me there's a fight scene going on.

"Lilly, Lilly! You're missin' it!" Lane calls, and other little kid voices echo him to call me in.

"Okay guys, I'm in the middle of a movie, but I'll check up on you all later, kay?"

"Okay, try not to die or kill yourself of boredom, since, y'know, you seem to be suffering OH so very much…" Oliver drones sarcastically. I chuckle and give another round of goodbyes and receive them at high decibels.

I shut my phone, clip it onto the waistband of my shorts, grab another brownie, and plop back into the leather couch.

As I watch Spiderman pummel a villain into the asphalt, a surge of satisfaction overcomes me.

Glancing around the room at all my cousins, some gazing blankly at the television screen, others alert, I find my homesickness I was feeling seconds ago subside into… contentment. Life on Lilly Island just got a little less isolated.

-

**Yeah, I don't own Spiderman, btw. Hmm so she met Miley, how do you think that went? Nothing too eventful so far pertaining to the Liley, but uh, that'll be changin'. :] Peace!**


	3. Week One

A week in Hick Land has passed. I don't wonder what my friends have been doing as much as I did at first; honestly, it's probably the usual routine. And it's probably already gotten boring.

Although, laying around and watching TV, messing with the chickens and dogs and pigs, playing every sport known to man with corny elementary schoolers, and exploring the Tennessee wilderness is also reserving utter droll there's no return from at some point.

Of that wonderful variety of activities I'm technically doing none at the present moment.

I'm lying out in the middle of the acres of grass; the house is a Monopoly-sized building on the horizon of blinding clear blue sky, in a bikini while the Red Hot Chili Peppers grace my mortal ears.

I'm thinking of… nothing. What is there to think of? The summer homework I'm no doubt putting off until the last week of vacation… and… nothing. Geez, I don't feel like a waste of space and superior human intelligence or anything.

'_Where I go I just don't know_

_Well I got to gotta got to take it slow_

_When I find my piece of mind_

_I'm gonna show you some of my good time..'_

I let myself go to the feeling of heat. It's hot... Obviously. And I feel almost foolish just lying here like a lazy bum letting the UV radiation work its cancerous wonders on me. Like, at least I could be _doing_ something, exerting some type of energy, and, wow, this past hour has just kind of been a waste of life.

I rip my headphones out and shove my shades up on top of my head, when I hear grass shuffling in the distance.

I look up to see Taylor and Carly approaching me.

"Hey guys," I say, while folding up my towel.

"Hey, we're going over to the trails, and your mom wants you to go with before you fry your brains out."

"She—" I instinctively begin to protest towards my mother, before I realize she's not even here, and then that she's right, "Yeah, I have nothing better to do… but what are the trails?"

"Where we ride horses."

I gulp. "O-okay."

I try to stay calm just as we walk up the slight hill to the house, and want to protest to my mother again even though she's out with Aunt Tiff. I'm pretty sure she did this on purpose to torture me, since she hasn't done enough of that.

The thing is, horses scare the living _crap _out of me. One time things went a little haywire at a petting zoo, and I ended up with a black eye and $30,000 that used to belong to the zoo.

My fingers are trembling as I slide on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top in my room. My brush jerks inconveniently when I try to fix my hair in the mirror fixed above my dresser, across the room from where the bed is tucked into the wall. I gaze absently at it, wishing to slip and hide under the sheets. As silly as I know it is, I am _terrified._ But, hey, since I'm practically in purgatory for the next three months, it's the perfect time to make my nightmares reality.

-

When we finally reach the shady area and empty gravel parking lot of the Trails, I'm a little tired and disorientated. I guess it's from being on foot in the heat and sun.

We cross the parking lot and I see a wide beige dirt trail leading to a short, yet long log cabin-esque building, which Taylor tells me is the stables where the horses are kept.

The dirt trail leads to a square space in the stables that wood logs aren't, which I find is where we have to pay for a session and enter the second degree of hell. Well, for me.

My heart is beating in my throat in an extremely unpleasant way as Taylor, Carly, Brooke, Max, and Chris lead me into the stalls, and the way my stomach is clenching and unclenching is making me nauseous.

The back wall, in reality, is only a few yards away, but the smelly, hay-abundant stable is already spinning and that wall is the pin-point axle.

I don't realize my eyes are squeezed shut until I hear a huge, flapping, "SSSHHHHHHHUUUUUHHHHH," in my ear, at which I shriek and spring to attention at.

My four eldest cousins, brother, and even the okay-looking dirty blonde guide are eyeing me with scrunched up faces, and I immediately grow self-conscious.

I hear Max unintentionally stage-whisper to the guide, "She's not too good with horses."

He obtains a dawning expression and winks at me, leading us two stalls down.

"This here's Darla, the nicest horse in this place. She'll be gentle with ya; she wouldn't snap a straw of hay, so you have absolutely nothin' to worry about," The guide says to me.

I turn slowly, subconsciously trying not to make any sudden movements, and am faced with two large, moist, milk chocolate brown nostrils, and huffs of air brush my cheeks.

I cock my head and to inspect my living transportation further, but where I expected to see some more hay strewn, there's a girl kneeling down behind Darla, doing something to her lifted hoof.

My face immediately grows hot as I'm struck with rock-hard familiarity. That looks a lot like…

"Miley, you gonna be done anytime soon?"

I peer at the girl, and recognize the certain shade of bronze-y tan that I've never seen on anyone, out of all the tanned skin in California.

I look over at Chris, who's previously rosy cheeks from the hot trek have now conquered his entire face, and I am then positive this is the same Miley that lives only yards up from where I've been sleeping and eating for the past week. Miley, with the long chestnut hair and toned, natural, feminine figure and grace that I shoved out of my thoughts after she shook them up with a degree of intimidation like no one else ever has.

So, this is where she works.

"I ehh—" Miley looks up to her co-worker, then to me and my shocked, intrigued expression I can feel distorting my face, "Dang, Jackson, way to let me know the Kenney kids were comin' today," Miley shoots, heated, yet exasperated, at Jackson. I guess he said his name while I was trying not to pass out from fear…

Which I seem to have momentarily forgotten about. I looked back at Darla again and felt my knees go weak—in the bad way.

"They just showed up, jeez, it's not like there was any set rend-er- vouz or anything. I'm givin' Darla to Lilly, here."

At the mentioning of my name, Miley's eyes went incredulous, zipped around and then settled on me, as though she was just now absorbing my presence.

My brow quirks involuntarily when Miley's voice gets high and friendly and pitchy as she spits out, "Oh, okay, I didn't see you there, but yeah, I'll be done with cl—with this soon, so… yeah." She's talking a mile a minute and with her thick accent I am again mesmerized and a little thrown off. It sounds as though her tongue is tied up in a knot and it's just an obstruction to her speech, yet even _that_ is endearing. It's so… unique.

I analyze this all in a quick two seconds and dismiss it with a blink.

"Have you ever ridden a horse?" She asks conversationally, and immediately I am on the spot.

Whether it's just because this girl's attention is all on me or everyone in the stable's attention is all on me, I'm not really sure.

"Uh, well… no…." My voice is all tiny and scared, and I clear my throat to force myself out of it, "Actually, I'm terrified of them." For the first time in front of Miley, my voice is clear and stable.

A light flurry of chuckles sprinkle around the room. The horses make their fluttery, flapping sighs which even seem to mock me. But I smirk and roll my eyes good-naturedly, and say "Yeah, laugh it up…"

"Why? Did anything happen with one?" Jackson chimes.

"Yeah, I just got kicked in the face when I was like, six. No biggie."

Carly snickers, while her sisters and Miley gasp. "That explains a lot," Carly grins, and I throw a light fist into her arm.

I feel too many eyes on me. I, for some reason, look to Miley who's still crouched on the ground and see a kind smile and intrigued eyes on her face. She looks away immediately, and it's like I caught her doing something she shouldn't have been.

My whole body stops abruptly, and jump starts. Starting with my pounding heart.

"Well'p," Jackson says, "Today is the day you show that horse up. We're gonna show you how to _ride_."

Miley stands, a hand trailing along Darla's huge brown and white side, her eyes trained on the gate where my hands are perched. I drop them to my sides and stand back until my back connects with the stall door adjacent to Darla's, and I jump, startled, when I feel a gust of air all over my right ear and see my hair fly out. Miley giggles lightly at my display, but I give a small smile. Just as I was beginning to get over it…

Miley leads the horse out of the stable and we all follow. I guess everyone wants to see me fall on my ass and become horse food.

Miley and Darla stop on the dirt road past the exit of the short, square tunnel of the stable. Darla looks ahead, her long, wispy dark brown tail twirling around.

She's so colossal and _alive_. It strikes me that biologists classify Darla and I in the same animal kingdom. I am an animal, just like Darla, and Darla is whatever the hell else I am besides animal… if that makes any sense whatsoever.

"Well?" Says Miley.

"Well what?"

"Get on." She's not polite, Southern-hospitality neighbor-Miley. She's cheeky, sarcastic, knowledgeable horse-riding-instructor Miley. I _almost_ forget I've met her before, almost.

I scrutinize Darla. I'm waiting for someone to bring a ladder out. How else could I get onto the seat strapped all the way up top her back?

No one moves. "Shouldn't you get out a ladder or something?"

Everyone snickers. I'm lost.

"No, I'm pretty sure you just hop on," Miley smirks, nodding.

_What_?! They're joking! They just want to see me fall on my ass!

I step toward Darla and then look into everyone's faces, twice, for any hint of a joke.

"Uh… I—"

"Here…" Miley says softly, and then I feel two hands land on my hips. At the knowledge that they belong to Miley, sharp heat rises in my forehead and temples and cheeks. I note my stomach churning but I defiantly pass it off as nervousness. I'm getting tired of this weird analyzing thing I keep on having to do.

I awkwardly jump/lift my foot into a leather hoop dangling from the seat, but struggle to pull the rest of my body up. A spot dangerously close to my butt is clutched, and my lower back is pressed into.

My eyes widen momentarily, and then I realize Miley's just a girl and it's cool if she touches me there. It's not like it means anything.

I'm sitting in the hard leather seat and everyone seems so far down below as they clap and laugh joyously.

I grip onto a handle protruding from the seat for dear life with one hand, but put on a cocky grin and motion towards myself with the other. I elicit more laughter.

I see Miley's face dead on as it's tilted up at me. Her gray-blue eyes have transformed into a bright cerulean, which I'm so astonished by my mouth hangs open when I go to ask what I do next.

"Y' okay up there?" Miley asks, and shields her gorgeous eyes from the sun with a military salute type hand, as she squints.

"Yep."

"Okay, I'm just gonna lead you around until you get the feel of things. Just try to relax or else your butt'll get kinda sore."

"Okay."

I'm startled when Darla first takes a step and I bob all the way up and down. Then she takes another and I'm jostled up in another angle. I try to do as Miley says, it takes a couple minutes to adapt to. I eventually loosen my grip on the handle, as well as the jaw I didn't know was even clenched.

I look at Darla's neck which sways side to side, and down the tethers Miley holds loosely in her hand.

Then down at Miley. She's wearing black athletic shorts and a fitted t-shirt. Her legs and arms and hair shine brilliantly in the sun. Because she's a little ahead of Darla and me, I can inspect her fully. I observe her slim waist, and elongate arm swaying as it holds the reigns not wrapped around her wrist in a small fist. I skip a certain portion of her which is it installed in me to simply not look at, and my eyes scan down to study the unspeakable beauty of her long, lean legs working almost machine-like, one in front of the other.

I hear a little "Hm," sound out of no where, and almost squeak with surprise when I realize it came from me.

"Okay," Miley says, and I glance into Darla's mane for fear of Miley turning around and finding me staring at her like she's the most difficult Sudoku puzzle in existence.

She stops and half of that occurs.

I look up to Miley again. As a matter of fact… I look all around to find we're far from the stables.

"Now…" She walks up to me, and thrusts the reigns out towards me. "You're gonna do it yourself."

"What do I—what if—"

Miley giggles, yet again, at my flustered state. "Tug the left one to make Darla go right, and the right to make her go left. Pull back towards you to stop, and whip 'em to make her go faster. Tap her on the side with your inner heels to make her go if she's stopped.

Got it?"

I give a shaky nod and wordless breath. Miley smiles tentatively, pats Darla on the side, and steps off, watching.

My hands are sweaty to the point where the reigns are almost difficult to grip. It's stiflingly hot out here.

I'm not scared anymore, really. I'm not afraid of heights. Just hooves. At eye level.

I tap Darla in the sides with my feet and feel like a cartoon character when all my inertia is left behind me, but I realize to lean forward a little. For a while I just bounce up and down roughly, trying as hard as I can to move in time with Darla. I imagine it looked a little… odd, to say the least.

The trail goes along tall trees, and then big hills of grass and fence, and then some more trees… and I see it begins to bend left. I tug the right reign like Miley told me to.

"Nice, you got it," Miley praises.

I can't help but feel like I'm nine and the teacher just told me I'm the smartest, coolest kid in the class. A small grin creeps onto my face.

We continue for a little while longer, some turns sharp, other gradual.

"How long is this trail?" I wonder out loud.

"This? Three kilometers, it's the basic one."

"Oh, wow."

"Why, you wanna get back?"

"Yeah, sure,"

"Okay, cool, because I'm tired of walking."

So… "What are you gonna do, run?" I chuckle.

Miley pats Darla's shoulder and she stops. I jolt forward. "No, ride the rest with you."

I blink. I'm pretty secure with Darla and this whole horse-riding business, but I for some reason prefer Miley on the ground. Maybe I'm just scared of that little chance something could go wrong, seeing as to how I'm seeing on a natural beast and everything.

I hold my hand out for her anyway, and remove a foot from the loop. I find it imperative to use all the might in my forearm to hoist her up.

I don't really know Miley. I don't know her hobbies, or dreams, or anything about her family. She's just a girl that works at a horse riding place and happens to live up the street from my extended family, of which I'm living for the next three months.

But I do know the 'discomfort' factor of having to move in time with a horse's trotting is multiplied, billion-folded, when you add another person. Particularly Miley.

"Um," Miley's voice is loud in my ear, "Are you alright with me holding your waist?" And her light breath kind of tickles.

"Ah, erm, sure."

Her hands land gently on my hips. The horse resumes moving at Miley's signal and Miley rocks into me. I'm surprised to find when I exhale to try and get my mind off of it, the breath is shaky.

This is _so _awkward.

Miley's probably used to it, though. This is probably nothing for Tennessee-ans. They probably buddy up on horses all the time.

I want to ask her, but I'd really rather try to ignore the whole situation.

The way I'm flicking through my mind trying to find a way to do just that only makes me think of nothing but my unsettled stomach and hypersensitive nerves for the next ten minutes, until the stables are in view.

Miley halts Darla, and I brace myself to jolt forward—but Miley's hands clutch pull me firmly so I don't. This actually makes me tick with something like even more discomfort, but I could swear there's _more_ mixed in with it…

"Sorry, don't want you snappin' your spine or somethin'," Miley says, completely fine, as she slides off the horse and lands on the ground.

"It's fine." I slide off Darla and hop to the ground as well, although I probably should have maneuvered off by using the foot-loop thing. I don't care, I just wanted off that awkward ride.

Miley notices my standoffish attitude and I hear her chuckle. "And I also apologize, that's always a little awkward the first few times."

So it wasn't just me. I grin, but I keep it to a minimum half-grin. There's just been too much friendly grinning today. "I gathered that. It's alright." I glance at Miley to see her smiling to the ground away from me. It makes my smile wider.

Honestly? A friendship with this girl seems inevitable. I don't know Miley yet, but I can put money on it that I will.

"Aw, darn, they all set off!" Miley says, and I look up, all the way down the length of the stables, west of the trail Miley and I went down, to see my cousins, brother, and Jackson disappearing into the trees.

Miley leads Darla and I to her stall, where I watch her tie the horse's reigns to a log post. She picks up a wooden based brush and slips her dainty hand and chipped navy nails through the handle. I watch the muscles in her arm ripple as she grooms.

I take a seat on a small wooden stool nearby, Miley still in my view. The next conversation I begin with Miley will be our first one, with no other people around. I wonder what it'll be abou—

"What's California like?" Miley asks thoughtfully.

Me. Our first conversation is going to be about me. Or, my hometown.

"It's… modern. Stereotypical. Beachy… a lot of rich people who bleach their hair and make it a priority to be tan no matter what."

Miley hm's, processing this. "What do you do?"

What do I do? I chuckle. "Why do you want to know about silly ol' me?" I'm half joking. But I'm half not.

"I guess…I just don't know a lot of people from outside of here… I'm curious. Am I bothering you?"

I realize she's really not. By location and vocal conditions, she's what I would call a hick before I got to this state, hell, before I got to this stupid horse stable… but she's not bothering me. Quite the opposite.

"No… the opposite, actually."

"What do you mean by that?" Miley is brushing Darla's neck. She's illuminated by the block of daylight streaming through the back of the stall. Her smooth, blemish-less, tan face is angled a little towards me.

I'm not completely sure what I mean by that. I settle on… "I guess I mean I'm a little curious of you, too."

Miley hm's again. I don't know why, but it's sweet when she does it.

"I surf," I tell Miley. Her eyes connect with mine. A small smile appears on her face.

"Mhmm? What's the ocean like?"

"You've never been to the beach?!" She's kidding. She probably just wants to know about California's beach, specifically.

"Nope."

I'm stunned. She sees this and shrugs at me.

I take a split second to appreciate how _easy_ Miley is to be around. The way she acknowledged the awkward riding, her unshaken, open-minded words… I'm beginning to feel like I've known her for years.

"It's so… ah…hm. It's bright. The ocean is always making noise in the distance because it's always moving. If you're in the sand, that is. I usually go down with my friends Oliver, Matt, Amber, Ashley… Connor…." I stop talking.

For the past hour, riding horses with Miley, I kind of forgot about my friends and home. Sadness and homesickness trickles in as I sit there with my mouth still open stupidly.

Miley's watching me. I look back over to her again.

"Sorry, I—uh…"

"You miss them or somethin'?"

"…Yeah." Miley's face kind of drops, and I realize that could be insulting. "Well, no, I just… well, you got my mind of off them."

"Me?"

"Yeah. You and Darla."

Miley smiles, almost bashfully, and nods with her neck and shoulders in it. "Good."

"Good?"

Miley looks back at Darla and gives a small "Yep."

There's a moment of silence.

Besides the horse thing, I don't feel awkward over too many things. So when I usually talk to someone, when the conversation takes a little rest, I usually feel fine about it.

But somehow, the silence the falls on Miley and me is excruciatingly comfortable. No, it's so comfortable, it's almost awkward. Seriously, I'm almost forgetting the first time I met this girl was a week ago and this is only the second time I've seen her.

"So… what else do you do? Just surf?" Miley asks, breaking my frantic, obnoxiously analytic thoughts.

"No," I chuckle. "We… play soccer on the beach… skate, sometimes. I used to skateboard more, but that's when I hung out with all boys—"

"Were you a tomboy or somethin'? Sorry, I don't mean t' in'erupt…"

"It's okay," I breathe in a chuckle. "No need to apologize… you do that a lot."

"So—err… yes, I guess I do."

I chuckle yet _again_. "It's fine. But you don't have to do it with me." I smile. She smiles. "Yeah, I used to be a little more 'tomboyish,' I guess. But… then in seventh grade I was paired up with the two most annoying, preppy girls in my science class for this volcano project, and once we got over our hatred for each other… things actually clicked. And here we are."

Miley nods, listening. She's good at that.

"What about you? Why have you never seen a beach?"

Miley's eyes are trained on the brush in her hand. "Well… I've been here all my life. I've always wanted to, though…"

"Don't you go on vacation?" It's something one of my baby cousins would ask, but really. Doesn't she?

Miley laughs. "Yeah, I've been t' other places, but… just not to a beach," she chuckles.

I take this in, nodding. I plan to change that.

"So," I ask, "When will everyone come back?"

"A few minutes, they're probably going at a faster pace than us… and the in'ermediate trail ain't too much longer than ours was."

"Oh, okay,"

"Do you wanna try?"

I look up to see Miley offering the brush to me. I nod and stand, having been a little transfixed by the silky, sculpted texture of Darla's huge torso this entire time.

Miley slips the brush onto my hand, and watches me as I mimic her strokes on Darla's opposite site from the stool.

Miley watches me like she's amazed at me. Like I'm a creature she's never seen before. I see and feel it out of the corner of my eye. It's definitely more flattering than creepy.

I turn and catch her gaze that's already aimed on me. This is all so different than when we met at her house a week ago. Instead of feeling like she's inspecting me, like the bitchy girls at school tend to do, I see she's only… she's only observing. Not even really judging, or if she is, it's already a positive opinion. Miley's human.

I smile. Usually, this weird silent smiling thing we keep doing would be… well, weird, but I see it like we're just communicating, like we were with our friendly, inquisitive conversation, and it's all in the key of happy and you know what? This vacation is really beginning to look up. She smiles back. Her teeth are white, and perfect, and I go to ask if she's had braces or something when I hear loud clamping of hooves approaching.

I can save that question for another conversation. I get the feeling Miley and I will be having plenty more of those.

-

_Most boring chapter of this thing, imo. Seeing as to how it was the transition from acquaintance-ship to… an almost friendship. Despite that little Liley-ish horseback scene there:D. The __**actual**__ Liley won't come until the chapter after the next, possibly. Not sure. Next chapter will be up soon. Peaceee:P_


	4. Week Two and a half

**I'm not happy with this chapter and I doubt I ever will be. It's possible I come back to this chapter way later and update it with something I feel that fits.**

**So, I'm sorry for the insanely long wait, I just couldn't figure out what to do. Hopefully you guys can forgive meD: Let me know what you think, should I keep it, could it be better, anything to change? **

**-**

It's been a week and a half since I hung out with Miley at the Trails. I've spent it balancing my insanely complicated schedule consisting of watching the Kenney's gorgeous television, sunken into their leather couch that's pretty much the equivalent of laying on a pile of pillows with cases made of silk, hanging out with the Kenney kids and my brother, or laying on a towel in my bikini generally in the same area of grass in the acres of backyard, on my way to earning skin cancer. I'm dying for some in-person contact with someone no less than the age of sixteen, in other words, Miley. Since she's the only person fitting that criteria that's available to me at the moment. Aw, hell, who am I kidding? I genuinely want to be friends with the girl, no, I'm _meant_ to be friends with Miley. That's why we click so well. There have been numerous moments where I've almost thrown my hands up in exasperation and marched right over to her house. But, I mean, that would be a little weird, despite the clicking, y'know?

I'm currently stretched out on the couch, switching between "Bernie Mac", "The Girl Next Door", and a marathon of "America's Next Top Model" reruns. It's practically a delicacy to have this TV all to myself, with all the little kids in this house, I'd expect at least two of them to wish to have their brains numbed by SpongeBob or Ben 10 or something for hours on end. But no, they'd prefer to explore the wilderness. Pshhh.

Daylight streams into the room through the windows, and with a quick check of the info menu, I learn it's 3 in the afternoon. I find my current position more relaxing than pathetic. Summer feels better than ever once you hit high school.

Bernie Mac is making a comment on Wanda as she retreats out of the camera's eye when I hear the sliding door from the back deck smack open.

Multiple girls' voices float in from the living room where Lane's baby grand piano sits, and grow closer and closer.

The voices are beside me, all southern accents, but one sounds different, more matured than the rest. "Hey, Lilly," it says, in a somewhat breathless, yet cheery tone.

My head whips out of its seat in my palm and Miley is looking down at me, her face shadowed from the light streaming through the window somehow, smiling politely.

It strikes me as strange, as I was just thinking about her, wishing to see her. Instantly I feel rejoiced, liberated somehow, finally, I've found something to do for the remainder of this vacation; hang out with Miley. Today I vow to make it so I'll be able to head over to Miley's house whenever I want to, seeing to it that she's hanging out with my cousins and hopefully me for the day.

I notice a blue towel with starfish designs all over it is slung over her shoulder and a navy blue canvas bag with thick rope handles hangs beneath it. She's wearing mesh athletic shorts and a hot pink tank top, in which I see pink and orange tie-dye patterned bikini halter strings protruding from the neckline of. I quickly scan all of my cousins to see them in baggy, dirt and grass stained clothes, and I guess they were outside with the boys. I wonder where Miley was all day. All week.

"Hey Miley, didn't expect to see you here… whatcha up to?" I run a hand through my hair absently, and glance down at my own clothing; navy blue and hot pink flannel pajama pants with hints of silver, and a ridiculously bright lime green spaghetti strap top that clings to my figure. I glance down, horrified, at my chest, only to release a relieved sigh when I find that I do, indeed, have a bra on.

I look back to Miley, whose eyes are still on me, as are my three cousins', and I hope no one really catches on to my previous thought process.

My cousins head upstairs and leave Miley with me, and I wonder exactly why.

I sit up and kick my feet up onto the cube shaped matching leather foot rest sitting in front of me, crossing my arms and facing the TV. Legs cross my view, tan and very slim, and then Miley sits beside me. At the same time, something sits _inside_ of me, an emotion that doesn't really do anything but stay there persistently, as if it was on the verge of doing something, of making me feel. I wonder if it'd stay until it could be activated somehow…and wow I've been watching way too much television for one day, so it seems. All it makes me do is think, think, think.

"Well, we're goin' down to the creek today," Miley begins, and I turn to look at her. Oh, so that's why she's wearing a bathing suit. "And you're invited."

I rejoice inwardly. Outwardly, I remain friendly and nonchalant. "Okay, sounds good. I'll go get my stuff on."

I stand, and realizing I left my phone behind on the couch. I turn and am met with Miley's eyes, which jump off of me fast. I snatch my phone, give a friendly smirk/breath-of-a-laugh type gesture, and practically sprint upstairs.

-

Its funny how not even an hour ago I was set on doing absolutely nothing for the entire day, and now I'm here at this _place_. Time is such a mystery.

The creek is gorgeous. Large, smooth grey boulders protrude from the emerald waters. The rushing sound comes from a waterfall across the main body of water, cascading down a tall earthy wall. A tree to my right has an elongated branch that a thick rope swing is knotted to, swaying out over the water.

Its hot out and I can't really wait to get in.

We all put our towels under a shady tree branch and I lift my tank top over my head. I immediately hear snickering and turn to see if it's aimed at me. I see a red faced Chris grasping Carly's wrists and shaking her as she giggles uncontrollably. Of course this is about Miley, so my eyes search for her, and I see why.

She's in her bikini and the slim back of her I immediately decide I'm envious of is making its way to the opening in the wheat-grass infested bank of the water.

I hear my phone beep from my bag as I'm dropping my shorts.

'_hey cowgirl, imy!3 how ru?'_ It's from Amber. Happiness in the form of warmth floods me as I stand in the shade, and a smile breaks onto my face.

"Whatcha smilin' at?"

I look up just as I'm about to reply and my breath stills when I find Miley looking at me, her question hanging in the air. Everyone else is wading into the water. I wouldn't be surprised if Miley looked at an eruptive volcano and it froze over. I also wouldn't be surprised if she looked at a man preparing to step off the Golden Gate Bridge and he backtracked as far from his death as possible.

"Uh, just my friend. Haven't heard from her in a while."

"Oh. One of the ones you mentioned in the stables?"

"Yep," I say, finally tearing my gaze on Miley that was beginning to unfocus and redirecting it to my phone's screen.

I finish the text quickly and come back to Miley, realizing offhandedly texting in her presence right now is rude, and toss my phone back into my bag. "Is the water cold?"

We begin walking over, the sandy dirt path fading into brown mud that stretches around the creek and into the distance of it. It's more like a lake than a creek.

"Not too cold, you'll get used to it."

I dip my foot in and find the temperature pleasant. Within seconds I'm wading out and diving under.

My cousins aren't quite in the center of the water. Since we're at the rounding of the creek—it goes far down to my left beyond my peripheral vision—I guess it's kind of shallow. The water just submerges my belly button. My cousins are in up to their chests.

As Miley and I approach, Chris shoves Carly for something she probably said. Taylor, Brooke, and Max are laughing.

I'm just about to open my mouth and ask what Carly said, when Chris says sternly, "Okay, we're gonna play chicken."

Carly makes a comment I try to suppress giggles at, and fail.

Chris dunks her under and it's all flailing limbs when Carly drags him under.

I look over at Miley, grinning and rolling her eyes at the two. The sun shines down on her slick-backed hair, which she pulled from its bun, and illuminates the beads of water trailing down her shoulders and chest. I note for the first time she has about two inches of height on me when I see her belly button, smack dab in the middle of her skinny stomach, above the water…and I look away. An alarm has rung in my head alerting me that I've stared at Miley enough for an acquaintance.

Carly and Chris appear above the water's surface again, and Carly flops over and her hand lands with a slap on Miley's shoulder. "I call Miley!"

Chris looks at me. "I got Lilly."

Chris isn't that heavy. He and Carly battle viciously, and I'm almost shocked at how tough she is.

I glance steadily at Miley from time to time, and even though I can't see all of her, I note her unsteadiness with Carly on her shoulders, which causes me to snicker, and, once again, picture perfect smile. She doesn't see me, and I'm lost in studying the shapes her cheeks take when she smiles and the way her eyes look when they're slightly squinted because of it, and suddenly Chris's weight is dipping behind me, until it's completely toppling me over.

Carly won, I comprehend as I kick the gooey creek floor to resurface from the water.

I shake my head and sputter out water, and push all my hair back from my head. I open my eyes, blink, and look straight at Miley. She's looking at me, and instead of the grin or laugh I expect, I only find her with her jaw slightly slacked and her lips parted.

I look away, almost disappointed.

We go on for plenty more matches, Miley and I holding my cousins and brother on our shoulders and watching them shove, grab, shout, and laugh. My body is aching after a while from being pulled and pushed around. My shoulders throb.

I nearly rejoice when Chris says to me and Miley, "You guys should go!"

Miley and I share a glance in which we both agree we don't see how that could work, since we're the oldest and biggest.

All throughout the day, we've been sharing these _looks_, sometimes to share a laugh, or a look of shock, or to share nothing. Sometimes I'll look at Miley just to see what she's feeling. She definitely wears her heart right on her sleeve.

I can't get over it; I've never had this type of connection with someone, especially in such a short time of knowing them. I guess it's just because Miley's so easy to get along with. I've gotten comfortable with her fast, and what I'm watching now is this unspoken bond form between us, even before an actual friendship.

"I could hold one of you, and so could Taylor, or Max."

I end up on my little brother's shoulders, while Miley sat on Chris's. He _so_ planned for this to happen.

I clutch on to Max's hair as if they were reigns, like on a horse. He tries to rip my hands away. I'm surprised he can maintain his balance. Actually, I'm surprised he can hold me. I guess being in the water makes it easier.

"Lilly, stop!"

I laugh and tug harder. Max threw me off his shoulders, but I held on and brought him with me.

I laugh even under water.

When I am above it, everyone's laughing. I look at Miley, her voice is missing. She just stares at me, completely blank, as if taunting Max like that was bad in her eyes.

I clear my throat and a wave of shame comes over me.

When Max appears beside me, his darkened dandelion blonde hair plastered to his forehead, he glares at me.

"Sorry," I say.

His look switches to incredulous. "S'okay…" He pretty much stares at me in awe.

I get back onto his shoulders and am eye level to Miley. Her face is tilted away from me, while her eyes are narrowed playfully at me, secretly questioning why I gave Max that heartfelt little apology. This confuses me. I thought she would respect that?

I shake it off as Brooke begins counting down.

I look at Miley and she faces me with a challenging smile and narrowed, focused brow. I can't help the humored smile that jumps onto my face.

The game has started, and Miley and I are both hesitating to make our first move. Both our arms are raised. She jerks a hand towards me, I slap it away. Her toothless grin and raised eyebrow shows she's entertained.

She throws an open palm at me and it attaches to my wrist. I grab for her other hand, and land around her knuckles.

Miley tries to whip my hand off, while I break my left arm free from her grasp between her thumb and index finger. In the meantime, we have pulled in towards each other.

I quickly send a light shove to her stomach. If I weren't so competitive, I'd probably feel weird about trying to fight someone I'm trying to become friends with.

Miley doesn't seem too athletic, but she's pretty strong, probably from all the yard work that comes with living on a farm. I see the muscle in her upper arm dent inwards as she grips onto my shoulder and tries to push. I rip her hand off my shoulder and grab her palm.

Her fingers lace with mine and for a moment I'm struck by how small and delicate her hands are, despite the force coming out of them.

Her other hand works it's fingers in between mine and we push against each other. Chicken is such a weird game. Holding hands with someone doesn't exactly motivate me to push them around angrily into a body of water.

The entire time I still have the same playful, yet competitive grin on my face. So does she. I force her arm back into her, and lean forward so Max walks towards her. I'm pushing against her strength with all my might.

I believe I'm going to win, when suddenly, she yanks me into her. I see her lean back, and then Chris move with her. My arms shoot out as I'm falling and lock around her waist, and I'm laughing as I tackle her into the water.

The water swallows me once again, and I still don't let go out Miley as I sink.

I feel her hands land on my arms, and she knees me lightly in the stomach, and I let go of her, but she doesn't.

She keeps her hold around my elbows even as we stand above the water.

I let out a laugh, but she doesn't make a sound.

I look at her, a small, relaxed smile on her face, and I honestly don't know what it means.

My laughter dies out, and with my eyes, I ask her what she means. Her face doesn't change for a heartbeat, the smile is still there, and then her grip is gone and she's clearing her throat at the water.

_What was_ that_?_

Everyone else is wading towards the bank or already wrapped in their towels. I guess they all wanted to take a break.

I hop away from Miley and plan to float on my back and relax. She's passing me, heading back towards the bank, when I grab her arm.

"Stay, I don't feel like getting out yet," I request.

"Alright." Her expression is blank and aimed at the waterfall above my head.

I float on my back, and for a while I'm doing that, when she says something, but it's drowned out because my ears are under water.

I tilt myself back and hold my breath to whirl backwards, and then resurface quickly.

I push my hair of my face and say "Whad'jya say?"

Miley is staring at me with wide eyes. "Uhh—uhm… I said, so, since you surf, can you swim real well?"

"I don't like to brag, but uh, I've been compared to _many_ marine animals due to my… swimming abilities, if that answers your question," I reply with mock smugness.

She giggles her alluring little giggle and says, "In that case, Mr. Michael Phillips, I challenge you t' a race," in her thick accent. I scold myself for being surprised Miley actually knows of current events, such as the National Olympics. I keep trying to remind myself she's not a hick, but her accent is making it kind of difficult.

"Oookay, but don't say I didn't warn you. From that end of the water to the other, up and back."

We swim, then wade, then stand at the bank.

"Can someone count down for us?" I ask.

"Oh jeez, y'all are racin'?" Carly says. "Lilly, you better watch out, Miley may not be able to do anything with a football or baseball bat, but she's one of the best swimmers this creek has ever seen."

"Yeah, well, it's about to see _the_ best."

Carly counts down, and I wade forth as fast as I can, then dive in. Miley's splashing forcefully beside me as I whip my head under and to the side mechanically.

I push through, until my fingers connect with a wet, sandy wall. The opposite side from the bank doesn't get shallower.

I flip around expertly, a move I perfected years ago in Oliver's pool, and begin the swim back.

My stomach scrapes across rocky sand, and I quickly push myself up and run to the bank.

But, I connect, full-body, with somebody.

I whip my hair back to find Miley steadying me, chuckling.

"You… you…"

"Won? Yes, I noticed. Best swimmer this creek has seen, my Uncle Earl's big, red behind."

I snicker. "Fluke. Better awareness of surroundings."

"Definitely _not_ a fluke. Better skill in the water. Do I need'a kick your butt again?"

"I thin—"

"No," Brooke chimes in, "I'm hungry, I wanna go."

I eye Miley with mock suspicion, but this stupid smirk is ruining the façade. "This isn't over."

She giggles. "It sure ain't."

I hold a lightheartedly feuding stare with Miley until I reach my things. I put my shirt back on, but wrap my towel around myself instead of putting on my shorts.

Half the kids have begun down the trail when Miley grabs my arm.

I look at her, and she looks at me, completely blank.

"Wanna go into town?" She asks suddenly, after practically skinning my face with her intense eyes. "O—or we don't have to, jus' sayin', if your bored of the Kenney house, not sayin' you would be, your Aunt and Uncle have a real nice house…"

She's rambling. My brow dips momentarily. I find it funny she's trying not to offend me. I've never really met a person so polite like that.

"Sure," I cut her off in the middle of her sentence, I'd begun to space out while she rambled, "I just have to take a shower, and then I'll come by your house?"

Miley's lips are in a firm, toothless smile threatening to break into a huge pearly white grin. "Yeah, sounds good."

At this rate, Miley and I will be inseparable by the end of this summer.

-

I play with one of the bracelets stacked up my wrist as the sound of Miley's doorbell blares in my ears.

I feel like… like this is some earth-shattering moment. Well, okay, not really. It's just that it's the beginning of something; something I feel is, well, big, and—finally—interesting.

The door clicks, and I realize I'm nervous as hell because I barely know Miley, let alone any of her family members.

A tall man with dirty blonde hair down to his jaw, wearing a faded t-shirt and paint stained carpenter jeans appears in the doorway.

"Hi…" I begin timidly, as the scent of Miley's house creeps out. Hmm… laundry detergent and… grilled cheese? "I'm Lilly. I'm here for Miley?" Adults don't usually intimidate me. But this man is an exception; I feel kind of weird coming here, since it's the first time and all.

Before the man, who I'm guessing is Miley's father, and I'm also guessing enjoys coloring his hair, has a chance to open his mouth, Miley bounds into view into the middle of the hallway behind the door. I suppose that's where her staircase leads to.

I take in the sight of Miley. Jeez, her hair is so _long_. It's past her boobs, almost reaching the lowest curve of her back. It's curled at the ends, and the way its cut and thinned out at the ends makes it look like high fashion. Her tan skin makes her grey blue eyes so bright and clear, her pouty lips shimmer naturally.

It's funny, how as a little kid I never really cared what someone's face looks like. And now here I am, scrutinizing every inch of this girl, like she's the notes I need to study for a test that makes or breaks my success in my most important class.

That's exactly what I do. I read her. Miley is an open book and all I've really been wanting to do lately is read the entire thing in one sitting. Instead, I get it in little parts, a few pages every now and then.

She brushes past her father and turns to him when she's beside me. I nearly expect them to begin speaking some country-land language, but then mentally slap myself, once again. Miley's _not_ a hick. She's practically every other girl in California, multiplied by five, and with a Southern accent that's kind of growing on me, with being around her and my cousins and Uncle Dean so much lately. I almost wish I had one. _Almost_.

"Daddy, this is Lilly. She's here for the summer, she's Mrs. Tiff's niece. We're gonna go hang out around town."

Miley's dad scans me up and down for a moment, and in that moment, I've never been more nervous around a parent in my life. I stare back, no expression on my face, although I consider smiling.

"Alright. Nice meeting you Lilly, you can call me Robby, or Mr. Stewart, whatever ya like." He thrusts out a firm open palm. This is a test, I swear it is, and I need to pass.

"Nice meeting you too, Mr. Stewart." I take his hand, squeeze firmly, shake down once, and release. "See you around." Cue sweet smile. Cue genuine responsive smile. Cue… Miley snicker?

Mr. Stewart nods his head at me and closes the front door, leaving Miley and I on the porch. We step down it and down the dirt driveway, which branches into the matching dirt road.

Miley's snickering continues as I give her beady eyes while we walk. "Nice meeting you too, Mr. Stewart, maybe next time I won't act like a bunny rabbit at gunpoint."

"Alright, can it, _Stewart._ I thought you knew all about manners, you seem to have more of them than my entire school's put together. Upon introduction, that is."

"Do I really? And darn, don't last-name me."

"Yeah, actually. And uh, I'll last-name whoever I want." I let out a laugh. "Stewart… Miley… Stewart." I play with it on my tongue. "What's your middle name?"

"It's…ehn-ohwhybee."

I narrow my eyes at the horizon of the road and sky ahead of us. "Is… is that Southern?"

Miley barks a laugh. "N-O-Y-B? None of your business…? You actually fell for that?"

I make a defeated little sigh. "Yes, I _actually_ fell for that." Jeez, this girl just oozes the smartass….ness out of me.

Miley laughs. And laughs. I listen to the sound. It's not preppy, but it's feminine. It's rough, and raw, and raspy, and _free._ I don't envy, because nothing about me is raw and free; I simply learn. All about Miley Stewart.

We continue down the dirt road. I'm surrounded with nothing but sunny grasslands and the same white wooden fence for, like, a mile, and a muscular horse in the distance every now and then.

Miley doesn't let one awkward moment appear. I assume she has a lot of friends, with how easily she's befriended me. We talk about a lot of things, mostly nonsense and small talk. I want to ask her if she feels as easily accustomed to me as I do to her. But I don't. Maybe later. She's a godsend, I realize. My slowly blurring sanity due to this increasingly dull vacation has been sharpened and rendered by her.

We reach the end of a dirt road and find—gasp!—another dirt road. It runs left and ride, no road continuing straight to make a three way intersection.

"There are so many open fields around here," I say as Miley leads me left. There is shade down the upcoming road, due to a row of shaky, yellow-green willow trees. "It's weird."

"I know. But I think it's kinda peaceful."

I look around. "It's… big." I laugh. "I'm just not used to so much grass." Our conversations aren't the most riveting, but they're informative. They let me get to know her, directly from the source.

She laughs. "It'll grow on you—Sweet Jesus!" Miley hops behind me and clenches my bare shoulders.

Something shoots through me, shocks me, it comes from my pelvis, shoots up to my collarbone and settles right below my stomach with a single throb.

_What the fuck was that?!_ I jump beneath Miley's touch, not that she notices, and everything kind of warps and wobbles. My mind is going ballistic, trying to figure out what in god's name I just experienced, but I quickly calm down and pause. I focus on what Miley has her index finger extended towards, the tree she's back peddling me away from.

I spot a huge, wrinkly vulture sitting on a branch of the tree across the street from Miley and I.

"Holy crap, that thing's huge!" I say, my voice a little weak.

Miley releases my shoulders, and my stomach seems clench absently, all on its own. She sprints ahead of me, the feeling in my stomach lingers and rings throughout my abdomen.

What the _hell _just happened?

-

I lick at my ice cream cone and go over the list of things I've learned about Miley today in my head. She can swim well. She knows just about everyone in town, but literally _everyone_ knows her. She's kind of clumsy—she's tripped over and into just about everything as we passed the market in town. She _adores_ fashion, she doesn't really wear the over-rated labels, either, she puts together cute things she tells me she finds in the thrift stores and other clothing shops we pass when she takes me further into town.

So she's outgoing, fashionable, clumsy, a good swimmer… sarcastic. Miley's pretty sarcastic. Throughout the day she's cracked plenty of jokes on me, of course I didn't mind, though. I shot them right back at her, especially when she'd trip. She does have a very appealing sense of humor, though. So on top of being built like a model, having the face of a goddess, skin like butter, and having a freakishly good swimming abilities despite having no other athletic talent, she's funny too. I'm absently peeling the rainbow jimmies off my ice cream with my tongue as I conclude Miley is just about perfect.

The sun is setting deep golden on top of the street and the row of tavern-like stores across the street—yes, we're actually traveling by paved roads instead of dirt at this point—and I turn to look at Miley.

She's already looking at me while she eats her chocolate ice cream. She told me she's been craving it for the past few weeks.

I almost turn to look away; she hasn't caught me 'studying' her yet today, I don't plan to let it happen now.

But she just looks at me calmly, I watch her lick, I watch her breathe. The sky is composed of a yellow and orange gradient, with hot pink clouds and a blood red sun. Miley is outlined with gold; it shines from behind her like a full-body halo. Miley is something else.

Her eyes are still on me. I move my ice cream from my mouth. This staring contest thing is getting a tad bit weird. But that's just Miley; another thing she is, besides perfect, is weird. Silly, best friend weird, not recluse geeky living-with-your-parents-'till-your-forty or enjoying watching things die weir—

Miley lifts her hand and it gets closer and closer to my face until I feel two fingers push into the area above my top lip to steady her hand, and then her thumb swipes across the lining of it.

This erupts a tingling sensation, since, y'know, I got some nerve endings in those lips, and I blink hard a few times because it's weird, not just silly, best friend, Miley weird, either, I decide.

It's weird, that Miley and I have these _moments_, and that Miley is also the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen and she comprehends me so well. It's weird that I've only known the girl not even for two weeks and I already feel so close to her. It's weird that I've only been in her presence three times and I'm _this_ fond of her.

"You had some…" she holds up her thumb and I see white.

I grin, break the eye contact.

"I hate you, Lilly." She says solemnly.

She slides into my view, her eyes back to her ice cream. "What? Why?" I don't understand, I thought she was having fun today—

"You're so pretty."

The compliment makes me warm all over, and slightly fidgety. All I can think of is how unjustified that is for her to say.

"Why would you of all people hate someone else for looks?"

She lowers a quizzical brow and looks up at me.

"You're three hundred times better looking than I'm ever gonna be." It feels weird to get it out there, but its fact, so I don't feel so awkward, I suppose. It's fun to watch her squirm, too, like I had been doing.

She looks at me like I've just grown another head, "You're blind, and wrong. Come on, let's go."

"Thanks?" I say, but I'm still burning. I'm not too good at receiving compliments, never have been. They go to my head after they sink in and I never forget them.

I especially could never forget one from Miley Stewart.

"So, busy tomorrow?" Miley says as we spin around and I see all the stores we've passed from the opposite angle.

I feel relieved, and pretty happy. This is what I've been waiting for all day.

"Nope. Why?" I focus my eyes on my ice cream, but my ears focus acutely on Miley's next words.

"I don't know, wanna come over my house?"

I'm cheering on the inside, seriously. Mission successful. "Hm, maybe I could find the time to stop by," I say in a faux snobby sense.

"Alright, then," Miley says quietly and goes back to eating her ice cream.

"I'm kidding, I'd absolutely love to come over."

The smile she shoots me could persuade the sun to hop right back up into the sky to try and rival its shine.

-

**Interesting, no? Well, if you say no, I don't blame you. The next chapter will definitely contain some Liley. I'm just trying not to rush it, ya know? It will also be up pretty soon, now that this is finally done, and because I was going to make it part of this chapter, but it would make it way too long and this was the best place to break off at... Sorry, again, for the further wait, hahaa. Peacee!**


	5. Dawning

**Longass chapter. I kind of combined two into one, and something finally happens, although I know its way too fast. Whatever, this is AU anyways.**

**Btw, where in god's name are all the Liley writers?!? I hate to see the fandom dwindling down:'(**

**Anyway, here ya go—**

**I do not own HM or Won't Go Home Without You, in which two lines of are borrowed, by Maroon 5.**

I gaze into the inky black night outside of the car window. Everything around me is edged in moonlight and the periodic golden street-light, or neon sign.

It's funny, how the first time you watch a movie you're sitting on the edge of your seat. You don't know what's going to happen next. There are some parts you don't really catch, and other parts hit you hard, affect you, sink in and teach you something.

When you watch the movie a second time, you catch all the things you didn't at first. And all those things it taught you… maybe they sink in a little further.

-

I swear to god there's nothing better than being able to wake up _whenever_ you want. I roll around trying to find purchase on the mattress, a position to launch me back into slumber land.

Once I find it, I'm flicking through my mind for reasons why I shouldn't shut my mind and fall back asleep, even though its 1-something.

Then I remember—I'm going to Miley's today.

Satisfaction and excitement floods me, then a little nervousness trickles in. What'll we do? Will it be awkward?

I peel the bed sheets from me and head downstairs to begin the day.

-

I throw on some black soffee shorts and a tie die orange tank top. I swear I'm hearing the sounds of my feet trampling down the stairs before I even connect with them.

I find my mother and Aunt Tiff in the kitchen. Aunt Tiff ushers me to sit down and eat. I pick apart a croissant.

"Where are you headed?" my mom inquires, her and Aunt Tiff peering deeply at me. The kitchen seems silent and still, although the busy afternoon is in high-gear.

"Um," I swallow, "that Miley girl's house? Down the street?"

"Yeah?" says Aunt Tiff, "She's a sweet girl. You like her?"

"Wait, who's Miley?" my mom hops in.

"She's Lilly's age, lives down the street"

"The one that was here with, uh, Carly and Brooke a few days ago?"

"Yes, that's her,"

"Oh, she was so nice! Very cute."

I dip a brow at my mother's stated opinion.

"Ah, Lilly-bear," my mom turns her attention back to me with my family-only nickname, "I'm _so _glad you're making friends with her. You know how much I hate to see you sulking around with nothing to do here."

I instinctively want to spring to life and screech at her how that's her fault just because she misses her sister and doesn't know how to compromise with the lives of her children, but I chew a bit maliciously on my mouthful of croissant and suppress my urge.

"Yeah, she's pretty cool. We get along so well its almost scary."

"Mhm, and I like it that she's nice to the girls. And Chris has this little crush on her, it's so cute," Aunt Tiff goes on.

I grin, but find it's half-hearted. Chris's sickeningly-obvious crush on Miley is… well, sickeningly obvious.

But then I wrinkle my nose at the strangely misplaced thought. His stupid little crush didn't bother me before…? I guess it just got old.

I grab some strawberries and a glass of milk, say goodbye to my mom and Aunt Tiff, and head out down the street. I'm all nerves and butterflies, but its nothing heavy.

Here goes nothing…

-

"Lilly," Mr. Stewart greets upon opening the door.

"Hi Mr. Stewart. Miley and I made plans to hang around here today. Do you know where she is?"

He steps aside, the silver chain hanging from his neck jingling with the movement. I scan his clothes; he's wearing faded slim jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He dresses like he's twenty. It's interesting, how he's fashionable and so is Miley.

I enter Miley's house. The bright hallway and kitchen beyond it I saw when I came here yesterday is now defined. I see smooth tile on the floor and granite counter tops, an island and stainless steel fridge, oven, and dish washing machine. The kitchen table is glass and the chairs are iron. It's very modern, from what is in my view.

"She's, ahh, in 'er room, I think. Go on up the stairs there, it's the first door on the right side o' the hall."

"Alright, thanks." I give him the sweetest smile I can muster and begin down the polished oak wood floor. The hallway is small, the walls are a casual, dull-ish blue. There's photographs hanging up down the hall, some of Miley when she's a little girl, but mostly of Mr. Stewart and who I suspect is Miley's mother with other adults. I don't know, I don't take the time to look at all of them.

I head up the stairs, wooden, made of the same wood as the hall, but with one of those long rugs with flower designs in it lain down on it.

I wonder what Miley's room looks like. Is it big? What color are the walls? Is it old fashioned or modern? What does it smell like?

I reach the top of both sets of stairs; my questions will soon be answered.

Another narrow rug is lain out on the still oak wood floor. The banister and railing of the stairs are also made of the wood, but the bars are white, matching the walls. The door frames are oak.

At the farthest end of the hallway are two closed doors with blinds pulled down and light coming through. I realize they're windows. Maybe they lead to a balcony? I can't see why else two glass doors would be sitting on the second story of a house. Then the hallway curbs to the right. To my direct left are double doors that I guess belong to Mr. and Mrs. Stewarts' room.

I go down the hall, and find myself at the first door on the right. It's closed. The one adjacent to it is open, and with a glance I find a plain white room with an open window, white curtains billowing in the breeze inside. A little porcelain sign nailed to it says 'Guest Room'. I guess Miley doesn't have any siblings. I keep it in mind to ask her.

I turn and stop in front of the closed door. I knock on it lightly before I can stop myself.

"Come in," I hear Miley's voice, muffled.

My hand flies to the doorknob. I restrain myself from inhaling dramatically, and go right ahead and open the door.

I blink and focus on what's before me. Miley's bed protrudes from the left wall. The messy, just-slept-in comforter is white with pink and green roses and other flowers stitched in. Unlike the halls and stairs, Miley has rug in her room, cream colored. The floor towards the back wall raises a level to the huge, wide window; a crescent shaped one on top of a tall rectangle one, and a plushy-looking navy window seat. I look around to see the walls are a refreshing green color, closer to a blue-ish than any yellow. Her furniture is cherry-wood. A shelf containing some books, medals and photographs is tucked into the corner beside where the floor raises. She has a nice sized television across from the foot of her bed, on another cherry wood furniture piece containing more shelves with more books and trinkets and a few framed photographs. Beside me and the door way is a dresser with a mirror hung over it and ajar drawers with random materials of clothing flapped over them.

I'm not sure why, but the image of Miley's room burns itself into my mind this first time I ever see it.

I take a step in, and am acquainted with an unfamiliar scent. Vanilla… and laundry detergent… and something _else_, no flavor, or named aroma. It envelopes me, floods my nostrils. I don't mind. 

And although I heard Miley's voice, I don't see her.

Right in front of me, where the bed is, I hear some rustling of paper, a resonating, hollow ring of what I believe is a guitar, and a quick clearing of the throat in Miley's tone of voice. She pops up on the other side of her un-made bed. She is wearing plaid girls' boxers and a hot pink fitted cami, the left strap of which curls around her tan arm instead of between her neck and shoulder. Her hair is tied in a messy bun that hangs down on her neck, chestnut strands askew.

But she glows. And I grin, on reflex, at the sight.

"Glad to see you cleaned up for me," I joke.

"Well jeez, not all of us wake up at the crack of… whenever _you_ woke up this morning." Miley unexpectedly flops down on her bed, and I watch her body deflate into it. She's so _slim_.

I sit down, a tad awkwardly, on the edge of her bed, facing the dresser and the door, but twist my head down at her. "You know what? I'm surprised. I thought all of you country-dwellers got up at the crack of dawn."

Her next sentence kind of floors me. "I have this tendency to break stereo-types. You'll learn that." Because it's _so_ true. "And I stayed up kinda late last night…"

The hastiness in the air moments before has not been forgotten by me. I try to peer out of the corner out of my eye over the opposite side of her queen sized mattress, to no avail. I nonchalantly fall over her legs to lie on my side, as somewhat overly-friendly it seems to be for me, for us, and get a look. I find, as suspected, a guitar.

But I swear I heard some paper movements… right?

"You play the guitar," It comes out like a soft statement, which kind of catches me off guard. Her hard shins don't mesh with my ribs and hip bone.

Miley is outgoing, fashionable, clumsy, a good swimmer, sarcastic, weird, and… musical?

"I do. I'm not sure if you put two-and-two together yet, but my daddy's was into the music business for a while…"

Stewart… Robby…

"Achy Breaky Heart!" Wow, Miley's the child of a celebrity?

Miley play-groans. "Ugh, yeah. Jeez, I woulda hoped you were a little more observant than that."

I just giggle. Yesterday during my introduction with Miley's father, I recall being far too nervous to actually _think_.

A quick _Why?_ pops into my head, but I dismiss it. I focus on the reality of being in Miley's room and house and life.

"You should show off and play me something," I request. I'm interested in this newfound trait of Miley.

"M'kay… but, after I shower. You don't mind watchin' the TV for a minute, do ya? I'll be fast."

I let her go, across the room to a door beside the television, closer to the dresser than the window seat, and I can hear her shower water running.

So. Outgoing, fashionable, clumsy, good swimmer, sarcastic, weird, musical… D-list famous? Rich?

That's cool.

Seriously, Mr. Stewart's no different than, say, Amber and Ashley's parents. I'm used to being around successful people, I live in upper-middle class Malibu for Christ's sake.

So none of that cliché, oh, you're-only-friends-with-me-'cause-my-daddy-was-a-one-hit- wonder (no offense to him) crap will be going down, I'm sure—

"PLEAAAA-AAASEEE, DON'T LEAVE MEEEEEE!"

I mute the episode of Real World Cancun, and listen to Miley singing in the shower.

"I always say how I don't need yoouuu," she harmonizes really well, "But it's always gonna come right back to thisssss, please, don't leave meeeee!"

I begin snickering. Her voice overlaps the rushing water, I can't hear very clearly, but what I can hear is pure raspy Southern soul.

I absolutely _need_ to hear this without interference of a shower head.

I listen to Miley sing one more song, "Birthday Sex," I believe I catch the chorus of, and by the time the shower water comes to a halt, I'm on my side, clutching my stomach, in Miley's bed with tears streaming down my cheeks.

I hear the bathroom door swing open but I don't hear anything, until I sit up to find a sodden-haired Miley staring at me with a quirked brow.

"Your—your singing abilities…" I choke out. I calm down and clear my throat. "Interesting song choice," I pipe, because I think I've insulted her enough, so I un-mute the television and train my eyes on that.

"Thanks. Thank you," Miley sighs sarcastically and heads over to her dresser, and shit, I think I really did insult her!

"No no, really, from what I heard your voice is great, and I'd love to see how you are on the guitar, it was just funny to—"

"Lilly," she cuts in, through grinning lips, "its fine, I wouldn't 'a belted out the lyrics to "Birthday Sex" if I didn't expect a laugh." She's looking up at me through her dresser mirror, and as unfamiliar as this room actually is, I already feel so accustomed to it, somehow. Why is that?

Miley and I became fast friends. I'm thinkin' it would be fine to ask her a question about it. I would be shocked if she didn't notice.

"We became friends pretty fast," I state. Just throw it right on out there.

Miley is fishing through a drawer. "Yes, we did."

"Honestly," I say, all buildup behind the single word, "I feel like I've known you for years."

She's peering at me through that dresser mirror again. "Do you?"

"Mhm," I try to act like her stoic-ish replies are nothing, which is bull crap. "Don't you?" It comes out a little more hopeful that I meant for it to.

"Well," Miley begins, turning to me fully now and leaning back on the dresser with her arms folded across her toweled chest, "yes, I do. You're friendly, I'm friendly. I was thinkin' you wouldn't wanna waste time, since you only got a summer here."

I blink. That thought—fact—never crossed me.

Miley's smart.

"Wow, that's weird."

"What?"

"You keep saying things that you know about me before _I _know them."

"Hm. Like what?"

"Well, that. And the stereotype thing. You have broken a lot of stereotypes so far."

Miley chuckles. "Yep. Gotta knack for that."

"Are you psychic?" She freezes and gazes at me because of the serious, honesty of my question. For a moment I actually consider this.

"Are you serious?" she giggles, "No, I think you and I just… click. I was thinkin' about it the other day," Miley says, "and I think you were meant to come here this summer."

Once _again_, I am floored. "Yeah," I respond feebly. _That_ I wasn't thinking. And I thought _I _was an in-depth thinker.

Well, shit, I got what I asked for—a straight-forward conversation. Miley is blunt.

"So," she continues, "I'm gonna throw these on, then we can go outside, or chill in here, whatever you want."

"'Kay." I'm so deep in thought I forget her whole musical-hobby revelation thing.

'_I was thinkin' you wouldn't wanna waste time. I think you were meant to come here this summer.' _

Her southern twang is on loop in my head.

-

"And this is Blue Jeans," says Miley, but I'm not looking at her.

I'm looking at the gray and white beast I'm no more than a foot apart from. Seriously, it could take one step and—

Cool it, Lilly. You're getting over this.

Blue Jeans huffs through his nose, and it only startles me a tiny bit. What an improvement.

"Well? Don't be scared. He won't bite. He's nicer than my Uncle Earl on Thanksgiving."

I laugh. I want to meet this Uncle Earl. Miley's been cracking jokes on him all day.

I reach out and lay my palm on Blue Jeans' snout. He lifts a large leg, god, its like, the size of a trunk of one of the palm trees back home. His hoof claps against the dirt.

"I think he likes you," Miley giggles.

When I look at her, I find one of her hands entangled in Blue Jeans mane and her eyes all over his face. I can see she loves the animal.

"Could I ride him?" I don't really know why I ask, I don't honestly want to. If anything, I want to get the hell out of the huge, fence-enclosed horse pen before Blue Jeans decides he's hungry…

Miley's a little surprised. But pleased. I immediately decide the request was a good idea.

Miley leads Blue Jeans and I over to a mini horse stable, compared to the one at the Trails, where she straps a saddle onto him.

I get my foot in the rung and am in the process of hoisting myself up, when I feel something connect with my ass.

Miley immediately begins laughing, and I turn to her, feeling a confused expression scrunching my face.

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

I'm up on a horse, again, still not adjusted to being this high in the air. On a mobile animal.

Miley gets onto one of her other horses, and leads me outside of the horse pen, then far away from her house.

"Where're we going?" I manage to squeak out. Really, some habits just never fade. Including my instinctive fear of horses.

"It's a surprise," she shouts over her shoulder.

I sigh, and let Miley's horse lead me. We're just traveling through open field.

The shaggy, but lush, healthy green field is dotted with clusters of wildflowers, here and there. Just tiny things no large than my big toe. There's lavender, yellow, white, hot pink…

I study the behind of Miley's horse, a chocolate brown and white specimen. The insanely long, silky, charcoal black strands of its tail sway side to side as it trots.

I scan up the horse after staring down at its hooves pressing rhythmically into the sea of grass below us, and my eyes land on the back of Miley's baby yellow cami.

I find the simplicity of her feminine build far more intriguing than the muscular horse she's riding. The sides of her waist are two perfect arcs, back to back. Her shoulder blades are popping out as she sits erect, reigns in hand. Her elongate arms point outwards at opposite forty-five degree angles.

I observe her hair. It shines brilliantly in the pure sunlight; it's like a metallic ribbon of chestnut brown flowing behind her as the rushing breeze pushes it. I'm in a daze, just watching the beauty of it.

I blink and finally catch the way Miley's entire body bounces up and down with the horse, the way her bare, tan legs bounce with it. She jostles forward a tiny bit, kind of like she's…

I cringe and actually shake my head side to side. That train of thought is far too awkward to pursue, especially when it's about a girl. Especially Miley.

I study the clear cornflower blue sky, the barrier of trees in the distance. Tennessee nature is something I never expected to be so spellbound by. Especially the tress and grass.

Eventually Miley leads me through a short beige dirt trail. I look anywhere but at her back, to avoid any more awkward thoughts. I study the bark of the trees and look up ahead at the green leaves, sunshine bleeding through them in patterns, making them nearly neon.

The trail leads us to a field with rows and rows of short, sparsely-leaved trees. I see trillions of skinny trunks, all lined up, going on almost as far as I can see.

Miley leads me straight between two filed lines of trees, and I take a closer look at the walls they make on either side of me… and I see grapes.

"Is this a vineyard?" I shout to Miley.

"Yup," she shouts back over her shoulder.

"And your family owns it?"

"Seems that way."

"Jeez…" that wasn't shouted.

It's gorgeous here.

I wish I could pick a cluster of grapes from the trees. They're a perfect navy blue color, and each grape is as big as a half dollar.

"Can I eat some of these?"

Miley laughs. It's raspy and it echoes. A cool breeze blows past me and the trees all 'whooosh' and shuffle. I close my eyes, and a pang, just a tiny one, of homesickness hits. It _almost_ sounds like an ocean wave crashing…

Miley stops her horse and I pull back on Blue Jeans reigns.

I watch her swing a long, toned leg over and her bare feet hit the ground. I almost giggle at her liberating mannerism.

Her hair falls around her spectacularly as she inspects a few different eye level clusters. I watch from my seat on patient Blue Jeans' back.

Miley rips a cluster from the vine on the tree, and brings them to me. She holds them up to me.

Her eyes are once again that vivid cerulean color.

"Your eyes change colors," I can't help but say to her.

"Yeah. In the sun." She's still holding the grapes up to me. I finally take them, and somehow manage to hold them and both reigns in one hand so I can pick them and eat them with the other.

"They're insanely gorgeous," I add. They really, really are.

Miley gets all sheepish and looks down at the ground. "Thank you," she breathes.

I'm still looking at her bowed head. I'm almost entranced by the lustrous halo the sunlight makes around the crown of her head. She tilts back up to me after her bashfulness fades, and says, "If you, uh, can't hold them, I will. But I think you'll be okay, Blue Jeans'll just follow Daisy, and it's not like we're hikin' up a mountain."

"I'm fine. Thanks," I give her a smile, all my teeth showing, and watch an answering one slowly form on her face as she turns back to the waiting Daisy.

I watch her retreating, slim figure lift a leg and steady it in one rung, and the rest of her fly up while she swings her other leg over, and then she sits.

She has such a nice body. I'm not envious, like I was yesterday when I saw it mostly bare at the creek. I add the fact about her to my list.

We start moving again, the sun beating down hot but the movement making air hit me, drying the sweat coating every inch of me.

Eventually, we reach the end of the vineyard. Miley leads me towards a dirt trail wrapping around a grassy mountain.

We ride the winding trail to the top. Miley hops off of Daisy and ties her reigns to a wooden fence. She walks over to Blue Jeans and me, lending me an outstretched hand. I grip it as I swing my right leg over and drop pretty ungracefully to the ground. Miley steadies me by my shoulder with her hand I'm not squeezing the life out of.

She leads Blue Jeans to the fence, a peg away from Daisy, and ties him up, too.

"Close your eyes," Miley commands with a smile. I do so.

Then she presses a gentle hand between my shoulder blades and guides me forward. We're walking and walking.

"Look."

I open my eyes to find a stretch of land before me. It goes so far it fades into a foggy-like gradient. Patches of emerald trees are scattered across the majority of the land. We're up way higher than I thought.

There are some wildflowers at my feet, sprouting from around the fence, and unlike the ones in the field. These have long green stems, and are larger, with more pedals. Some are lavender and the rest are a sunset orange color than immediately makes me crave any kind of orange popsicle.

"Jeez," I say again, under my breathe.

Miley turns her back to the view, and leans back against the fence, arms crossed across her diaphragm, which makes me a little uneasy. There's a small grin on her face… its almost cocky.

"Lilly, I think you're a closet nature-lover."

I giggle. She's so right. I've been admiring everything in view since I've first stepped foot in Tennessee. "I blame you."

"Me? What'd I do?"

I find myself focused on her pronunciation. When she says 'I' it comes out "Ah". I can't wipe the silly smile from my face.

I'm just so happy at this moment.

"Showed me the finer things."

She nods, and looks away from me.

-

I remember those words coming out of my mouth.

'_I may not make it through the night, _

_I won't go home without you…'_

We're almost at the airport. The car is freezing, I pulled her hoodie on a while ago.

I remember those words coming out of my mouth, but it's not until right now, on the ride back to California, do I realize the gigantic foreshadow that entire exchange of words was.

Just now, in the rented silver Durango, cutting my path across the country away from her, do I realize how little I knew at that moment, and what exactly Miley Stewart was going to show me that summer.

-

I snuggle further into my bed, the warmth from my own body enveloping me by means of my fleece blanket.

I'm thinking about Miley. About the day. About how I finally have Miley as my friend.

I miss my friends. But I have Miley, and it's more than good enough.

I'm completely spent. Miley has work tomorrow, and she invited me to come visit around six, or earlier if I wanted, when she gets off and then we could go into town again.

I've never felt more satisfied in my entire life.

-

My hair is wavy today. I spent the majority of my day down at the creek with my cousins. I have terrible sunburn on my cheeks, shoulders, and chest.

I know the way to the Trails on my own. I walk beneath the shade of the trees, cooling me down the slightest bit, but my sun burn is heating me up.

I find Miley at the counter, head in palm of her arm propped up on the desk by her elbow. Her eyes are glazed over in boredom. Her hair is fashioned in a French braid today. Two short strands hang down the left side of her face.

She doesn't register who I am when I first pop into her view.

Her face lights up like a decked out Christmas tree when she does, even though she jumps a foot in the air, and straightens out her tank top.

"Sweet Jesus, Lilly, I 'idn't even see you walk up!"

"Sorry," I giggle. "Are you done here yet?"

"Erm…" she leans back to look at a clock on the wall.

I watch the jugulars of her neck stick out as she cranes her neck.

It happens again; the first time being when she grabbed my shoulders when that vulture scared the shit out of her. That _feeling_, a bolt of it slammed through my torso, leaving every inch of me tingling in its wake. One spot in particular…

"Should be," she mumbles, breaking me from my trance I didn't even know I fell into.

"JACKSON! I'm leavin'!" She shouts.

Okay, that's not normal. What the fucking hell _is_ that? I consider asking my mother to take me to the hospital.

It's not a hot flash. It's not really painful; just like a shock. Is it something in the air? What the fuck's causing it? What the fuck _is_ it?

"Lilly?" Miley calls.

I snap up to meet a curiously tilted head and concerned slate blue-gray eyes.

Shit, she has not _one_ blemish on her skin… "What?"

I don't realize she's removed her work vest and lanyard, or that she stepped out of the log walled cubicle.

"Sheesh, what were you thinkin' 'bout? Not even Houdini coulda put you into that trance."

"Um…" Should I tell Miley? No. Something tells me no. "I was just spacing out. How was work?"

"Boring. But it's okay. I'm getting paid."

I giggle.

We start to go back down the trail I just trekked, until I hear foot steps scratch in the dirt.

"Miley, get back here," Jackson commands strictly. What a wonderful co-worker.

Miley rolls her eyes. "What?" She whines, "My shift is over, its past six…" She walks over to Jackson.

And I watch.

I study the perfected art of her braiding, her sun baked shoulders, her equally sun baked, smooth legs. God, she must have the softest skin.

My fingers flex and I feel my face scrunch at how _random_ the urge to feel Miley's skin was.

I rip my eyes from her as she talks lowly with Jackson and look at the sky. The sun has dimmed; it's now shooting the type of golden rays that signal it to soon set.

Miley strides back over to me. I watch her long legs move despite she's facing my side, and it feels like I watch them forever.

…Why am I still looking at her? I know what she looks like. But I just keep _staring_…

"What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing," Miley sighs.

"'Kay. Where we goin'?" She sounds perplexed, so I change the subject. We begin to walk and I feel the urge to release the girl from all her troubles. She such an upbeat person, she makes _me_ upbeat. This is the first time I've really seen her anything but.

"I'm hungry. I wanna get a bite to eat."

"Alright. What places do you guys have to eat around here?"

"Umm… Wendy's is the closest thing," she says with a slight grin, which I have no idea what is for.

"Sounds good."

Miley's telling me about this bratty kid that came to use the trails today, and this sickeningly sweet couple.

The sun is streaked orange and pink when we hit the street of town. Miley says 'hello' to a handful of people.

"You're so famous, Miley," I say to her after we part from an older man sweeping the ground in front of a barbershop. This town is so old-fashioned, although there is a mall a few streets away, according to Miley.

She chuckles. "I guess. You know me. I'm just friendly. And my dad has been getting his hair cut at that place for the past two decades, so I think it's liable for me to know the owner."

Now I chuckle. "That's true." And we continue in silence.

We turn a corner and a thought pops into my head.

"So… no offense or anything… but do you have a lot of friends around here?"

"None taken," Miley sighs, "my closest friend lives half an hour away."

I dip a brow and turn to her.

"I go to a boarding school in Chattanooga," she explains.

"Oh," I say, dragging it out. "How come?"

"Well," Miley says, "The school here is low-budget… and, I dunno, we have the money."

As logical as the answer is, I detect a lie.

I continue to peer into her profile; downcast eyes, chewing on her lip. Miley's so easy to read.

"Are you sure that's why?"

Miley breaks into a giggle. "No… there's more."

"Go on."

"I did go to the school here for a little while, but had some drama with these bitchy girls," the curse sounds foreign coming from Miley, "so daddy pulled me out. This was, like, three years ago."

"What happened? If you don't mind talking about it." My eyes are still all over her face. Hers are still all over the sidewalk.

"They found out my dad used to be famous, and faked bein' friends with me to use my house. I heard them talkin' 'bout it one day, and stopped invitin' 'em over. But they got mad and started rumors about me that no one even believed. It was just a mess."

"That's ridiculous," I comment.

"Yep. Boarding school's so much better. Everyone's so down-to-earth, even when we were younger. I have a nice amount of friends there."

"I believe it."

Miley looks at me and just smiles.

Now I'm looking at the sidewalk. After returning it, of course.

-

"Lilly, it's fine, I'll treat you. Get something."

"Are you sure?" I feel funny letting her pay. I don't want her to think I'm taking advantage of her, after that story she just told me about those girls.

"Positive, I have a twenty; I'll still have ten bucks left anyhow."

"Alright…" I order a regular cheeseburger, a small soda since there are refills, and small fries.

We sit in a booth beside the window, and I peer out at the hot pink sky and cherry red hemi-sphere of sun gradually sinking below the trees.

For a fast-food restaurant, this Wendy's is pretty clean.

I go to inspect the shiny floors when I catch Miley's eyes on me out of the corner of my eye. I turn to her instead. After a long second, she breaks her stare and looks down the junior bacon cheeseburger in her hands.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Something on my face?"

"No."

For a second, the air is awkward. So she was just _staring_? But her lips I didn't even know my eyes were all over split into a pearly white grin and she chuckles. So I chuckle. And the awkwardness is gone.

"I like your hair like that." She says honestly, a corner of her lips still tugged up in a lop-sided grin.

I go to say thanks, but I've never seen this lop-sided grin of Miley's, and when I catch sight of it, I can't look away. Or function.

It's just so… so…

So _cute_.

"Thanks," it comes out choked.

I dive into my fries, burger long gone, and oh my god, that's _it._

Outgoing, fashionable, clumsy, a good swimmer, sarcastic, weird, musical… and cute.

Miley's cute.

Miley's cute. She's _cute_.

Not puppy dog cute. Not little shimmery-eyed baby cute. Not fashionable, flattering shirt from the mall cute.

But the cute you just can't stop _staring_ at…

-

**Longest chapter I've written in a **_**while**_**… but I like how it turned out. FINALLY some liley. Sheesh, even I was getting impatient. **

**There are probably a good number of mistakes, and I'm sorry, I kind of wrote the majority of this in one sittingD:**

**Oh, and if you didn't really understand, the scene in the very beginning of the chapter and the one where lilly is talking about what miley will really show her are of Lilly in the car on her way back to California, at a future time than the rest of the chapter. She's in the same tense as she is in the very first part of the first chapter. **

**Hopefully I didn't rush this and it's not too confusing. Next chapter should be up soon, and I think it's gonna be another long one.**


	6. Dawning II

It doesn't surprise me that I'm attracted to Miley.

I feel the leather seat of the kitchen booth underneath me but I'm so struck by heavy thoughts, I couldn't tell you where I was if you asked.

All of those times my eyes have scrambled automatically to the girls on the beach instead of their chiseled boyfriends, my offhanded fetishes with random, gorgeous female celebrities, the displaced feeling that rises in me whenever Amber or Ashley swoon over their current (male) love interest, the one I'd get because I really couldn't relate to what they were feeling…its been in front of me all along. I've never looked at any guy and gone 'weak in the knees'. Hell, to be completely honest, I can't recall one time I've gotten horny because of a guy.

_I'm a lesbian._

I try to let the statement mentally wash over me.

No. No… that's not it. Because I _can_ recall my palms getting sweaty and butterflies erupting in my stomach around the scarce guys I have had romantic relationships with. And maybe I haven't had any sexual feelings towards a guy because Miley is the first person I've actually developed an attraction to in a _while_. I'm talking about practically a year.

So, I don't think I'm fully a lesbian.

Am I bisexual?

Guys are cute. Miley's cute. She's a girl. Alright, let's be honest here, Miley's not the only girl I've ever been attracted to. Let's try that again. Guys are cute. Girls—_including_ Miley—are cute.

I'm not surprised, but still, I can't believe it. I'm so accustomed to homo and bisexuals, I barely even think about them. I live in California for god's sake, it's not like I've never been exposed to people who like their own gender. It's not a problem. I'm not going to go scrub myself with holy water after lunch.

They don't strike me as odd or anything because they're just people, just neighbors and trash men and models and teachers like everyone else… But I never questioned that I was one of them. Maybe if I did I would have discovered this much earlier.

My phone springs to life, vibrating noisily on the seat beside me, the vibrations traveling to my leg. I snatch it and open it without looking at the caller. "Hello?"

"Hi, Lilly" Miley says.

My heart swells but then drops. Butterflies begin rising in my stomach but they transform into nervous churning.

A day has passed since Miley and I last hung out. She gave me her number when we walked back home from Wendy's. Yesterday I went out shopping with my mom, Aunt Tiff, and all my girl cousins. The entire time I was completely out of it, trying to get comfortable with the reality of my attraction to Miley.

"He-ey," I say, and the word is broken hoarsely, at which I cringe and clear my throat, "hey, Miley, what's up?"

I'm excruciatingly nervous. I feel like I'm high as I wait for her to speak. It wasn't like this before…

"Nothing really, just finished my chores; I was wonderin' if you wanted to go cool off at the creek?"

"Sure," I blurt out, before really thinking about it.

"Alright, should I stop by your house and we can walk from there?"

I realize I just obligated myself to spend at least the next two hours with my newfound girl crush, practically naked. "S-sure."

"Okay, see ya in a few"

"Bye."

As nervous as I am, I find I'm equally as excited.

-

I open the door to reveal Miley, standing there in a pair of frayed denim shorts, a navy blue Titans t-shirt, and yellow flip flops.

I look her over once, then again. I'm struck by how cute she looks. I'm struck by how cute her simple outfit is. I look at her face, then at her feet, then at her arms. It's like I'm drinking her in.

"Hello to you, too," she says, and I can hear her smile, but I look up to see pearly whites outlined with glossy pomegranate anyway.

"Hi," I reply meekly. I step out of the house and shut the door.

"Y' alright?" Miley asks as we stroll down the porch. She's angled forward as if to get a floor's look at my face.

I never paid this much attention to her movements before.

"Mhmm, absitively posolutely. How couldn't I be alright on such a gorgeous day in such a gorgeous place? I'm on vacation, what's there to not be alright about? In fact—"

"Okay, I get it, a simple 'yes' woulda done the trick."

She chuckles, but I don't, because I'm overcome by a flash of embarrassment at my rant.

I'm not alright, Miley. I kindofsortof like you a little more than you think.

I wonder how Miley feels about homosexuality. I decide I _need_ to know. Should I ask? Or would that be too obvious?

Not right now. Not while she thinks something's wrong, which there is, and which I've made obvious by my rant. I make a mental note to bring it up later.

We walk in silence until we hit the spot in the woods where we have to enter.

"Is surfing hard?" Miley asks suddenly.

Her outspoken-ness is so attractive.

And the way I keep noting in my head all of her endearing attributes is beginning to annoy me. I wonder when these feelings will go away.

"It's not like other sports, because the ocean has a mind of its own. It takes a lot of endurance, believe it or not, because you have to, like, paddle a lot, and even just pushing yourself up, which gets tiring if you're not used to it. Then there's the balance aspect. It's hard at first, but you get used to it."

Miley nods. I'm almost grateful she asked a question I've answered numerous times by newbie locals and such back home—I'm afraid I'll start stuttering or say something retarded.

"Are you good?"

I take the gratefulness thing back. "I—uh…" I pause and try to call for words to come to me, to avoid word vomit. "Well, you'd just have to see for yourself." There we go.

"Oh, come on, there's no need t' be modest, you're probably the best outta your friends, aren'tcha?"

I giggle. It sounds awkward to me. It's that whole discomfort-from-compliments issue I have. "What makes you think that?"

I haven't looked at Miley since we left the porch. I don't intend to.

"I dunno. You just seem really athletic." I swear she almost sounds sheepish.

"Well, I'm experienced with it. I mean, I don't have any god-given talents at anything."

"You taught yourself?"

"No, my uncle. My dad's brother. He's a complete surf bum. He taught me when I was seven, to my mom's dismay."

Miley chuckles. "That's cool. When did skating come in?"

"Jeez, you're making it like I'm Tony Alva or something"

"Huh?"

"You know? Lords of Dogtown? Z-Boys?"

Silence.

"Nevermind," I chuckle. "I started skating when I met Oliver."

"Because I know when that was," she says sarcastically.

"Kindergarten."

"Wow, how did you ride a skateboard at age six?"

"Oliver's dad was pro. He would hold me on one side and Oliver on the other and walk us along. I mean, I didn't start doing tricks until I was like, nine or ten, but I can't remember a lot of times not knowing how to ride a skateboard." I like answering Miley's questions. The fact that she's actually interested in me and my life for some godly reason makes my head spin—in a good way.

"Are you amazing at that, too?"

I laugh. Her assumptions that I'm good at these things humor me. I know I'm not bad at them, otherwise I wouldn't keep doing them, and I land a lot of tricks, and do them a lot. It's just sweet of her.

We're almost at the creek. We're stepping over the falling tree trunks as I contemplate a response.

"I haven't done it in a while, like I said. Actually, I brought my board with me," I did so because I thought I'd have enough time and be _that_ bored for the rest of the summer…but I guess not with Miley around. An idea springs into my head, "Oh my god, after this, I'm totally teaching you!"

Miley laughs. "Oh _god_ no, I'd prefer to live, thanks."

"Oh, right, I forgot, you're the least coordinated human being on the planet. My bad."

Suddenly, Miley's warm, soft hands land on my arm and waist and I'm shoved aside. My heart jolts and that little electrifying feeling zips through me.

OH, so _that's_ what that feeling is!

I don't even listen to whatever Miley says next, which is nice, instead of hanging onto her every word for five seconds. I'm that dumbstruck: my body knew I had a thing for Miley before _I_ did.

Yikes.

"Lilly? Hello?"

"Huh?"

"I said, I highly doubt I'm the least coordinated person on Earth."

"Alright, then why won't you let me teach you?"

She just giggles.

"See! Don't try to feed me lies, Miley… Miley… shit, could you _please_ tell me your middle name?"

"Maybe…"

She trails off and I finally look over at her curiously.

The butterflies that instantly stampede through my stomach at the sight of her wavy chestnut locks being pushed behind her in the shady breeze and her giddy smile almost make me want to sigh of contentment. As weird, unexpected, and creepy as these feelings are, they're just as enjoyable.

"If you catch me!"

I don't register her words until she jets in front of me, and then I chase her into the sunny clearing ahead.

She's laughing as we run. She suddenly stumbles and a flash of worry hits me as she begins to tumble over, but she's out of my reach.

She catches herself, though. And then I'm laughing.

"Jerk!" she shouts over her shoulder.

We're kicking up the sand of the bank now. I try to reach out and grab a hold of her, but she dances out of my grasp. I take the time to quickly strip my clothes and she gets a

safe distance and waits till I'm done.

She crosses her arms and curls her fingers around the hem of her shirt, and my heart is beating wildly as I'm still lunging and she's still dodging.

I freeze when it begins to lift… and it's like slow motion as her taut stomach and the tops of her breasts I dare to glance at are revealed. God, her skin is so radiant… _smooth_. The sun bounces baby yellow off of her, the rest is a baked bronze. I'm always observing the colors of Miley.

The shirt is off and whipped in the general direction of the trees, and I swipe a hand at her again.

Now she's quickly unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans while jumping out of her flip flops. I'm surprised she hasn't tripped herself yet.

The shorts hit the ground and my stomach is twisting excitedly. I'm having more fun than is really necessary with this.

Miley now prances before me in a deep violet bandeau top and matching string bottoms. It's a flattering color. Then again, that's every color when it comes to Miley.

I catch her playful grin and mischievously narrowed eyes. She turns and darts into the water. I'm hot on her trail. She superman jumps into the hip-level water, it feels nice and relaxing, like bath water, and she's accelerating away, foamy white blazing up behind her like fuel to a rocket.

She _does_ swim like a rocket.

I'm swimming, too, following her, but she looks back and grins before slipping underneath a few yards ahead of me.

There's no sign of her. I look down but the creek isn't crystal clear or anything.

I'm almost getting worried after thirty seconds. I begin to swivel around as I tread; I'm out past where I can stand.

I shriek loudly when I feel something tickle, and then wrap around my right ankle. I'm screaming and kicking and then it lets go and Miley pops up a few feet away.

I grimace at her laughing form, and propel forward. My arms are wrapped around her midsection and I'm dunking the both of us under before I know it.

Miley wriggles out of my grasp. Underwater her skin slides against mine, her leg I believe, as she escapes.

I pop up to find her yards away, standing up to her chest.

I jerk forward but don't actually swim towards her. She's three more strokes away, and I chuckle.

She's just eyeing me playfully. I love her playfulness.

I take a big breath, slip underwater, and try opening my eyes, even though I have contacts in. It's uncomfortable and blurry, but I can faintly see her legs up ahead. I shut my eyes and propel in that direction.

I open my eyes again, but she moved, because I don't see her legs. I need to breathe so I kick up.

I hastily turn around and dip my head back half into the water so my hair doesn't make a stupid looking center part and wipe the water from my eyes.

I open them to find Miley standing before me, which means she's behind me—I seemed to have overshot my underwater excursion.

The playfulness is gone from her face… her eyes are straight on me and even though I'm in water I feel myself break into a sweat under her intense stare.

Instead of inquiring, I surge towards her and grab her arms. Her smile instantly returns as she tries to rip them from my grasp. I try to herd her to the shallow water, I subconsciously plan to sit on her and make her say…

Wait, what am I trying to squeeze out of her?

Oh, right. "So, what is it?"

"I'm not telling!"

I yank her over to the shallow water, place a hand on her stomach and momentarily relish in the firmness, and shove her under.

She pops back up and tries to dash past me, but I catch her arm roughly and shove her back in front of me.

"Miley, you have to, I caught you!"

"I don't have to do anything!" She says through giggles. Now she's trying to raise her knee so it peeks out of the water an inch, to separate us.

I drill my shoulder into her stomach and drop her instantly with a splash.

She's trying to kick me away as I clamber onto her. I push her legs down into the floor of sand and sit on her thighs.

"Now you do," I say through a grin.

Miley sniggers and gives me a weak shove. I scarcely budge.

"Really though? Is that all your might?" I question honestly.

She goes to give me a harder shove, but I catch both of her arms and begin trying to work them down.

Miley's shoulders, neck, and subsequently, head, follow. I ease up a bit, I'm not trying to drown the girl.

I watch her jugulars protrude as she cranes her neck, and her eyes are all wide as she sputters, "Ray! Ray! It's Ray!"

I immediately dismantle her, and sit in the water beside her.

Miley Ray. Miley Ray Stewart.

Even her _name _is cute.

"Now, was that so hard?"

"Yes. I _hate_ it. It's my daddy's middle name… like, I don't understand why I, baby _girl_, got my father's name.

I snigger at that.

"I hate you, Lilly."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's not a bad name at all, just the fact…"

"Alright, what's yours?"

"Oh, now, that's not important, we don't need to worry about _my_ middle name when we have yours to laugh at."

Miley only tips her head towards me and arches her eyebrows inquisitively.

"I told you mine!"

"So? I never made any promises, darlin'."

Miley bows her head a degree or two and shoots me a menacing glare.

"Okay, okay, it's Diane."

"Lillian Diane…"

I slap her in the arm. "_Lilly_. Lilly Diane."

"Whatever you say, Lillian."

"If you keep this nonsense up, I'm demoting you to Ray. Just Ray."

"Yeah, so I don't respond? Clever, Lillian. Lillian is such a name of elegance, and grace."

"Okay, let's settle down."

"It's like you're a queen or something. With the satin white gloves and all."

"Shut up, stingray."

Miley stops and gapes at me, and a second later I am greeted by a face full of water. I nearly feel a pang of homesickness when I can't taste any salt, as strange as the desire is, but the triumphant look on Miley's face causes the feeling to shift into the background.

I think, as long as I have Miley, this trip is going to be alright from here on out.

-

"Lilly, seriously, don't you dare let go. It's not gonna make any kinda cute, inspiring Hallmark moment, so don't even think about it," Miley says sternly.

My hands clutch her denim-clad hips. She wobbles this way and that, her knees buckle, she sometimes jolts in place and flails her arms.

I don't know why, but I'm in a haze of disbelief at the location of my hands. Not because I find it weird, or wrong. More like I can't believe I'm actually touching the girl, even though that's occurred one way or another all day.

"Oh, Miley, by now you should realize I'm not that type'a girl. If I was gonna let you go, it'd be strictly for laughs. On my part."

I can't believe I thought this day would be torture. It's very far from anything painful.

Miley jerks unsteadily and I tighten my grip.

Before I can control myself I suddenly glance at Miley's backside, the space between my hands and _maybe_, possibly a little bit below. Just a glance. There's nothing wrong with curiosity. It's human nature. Which is _natural._

A picture, a flashback, comes to me of when I was riding that horse, Darla, at the Trails, and I was looking at Miley as she walked on the ground, scanning her up and down.

I simply didn't even have the desire to look at Miley's… attributes. Or did I? I was looking at her anyway. Like I said, my body knew of my attraction before my mind.

But things have obviously changed. I've crossed a line.

How do I feel about that? I ask myself, but I can't focus enough right now to generate an answer.

It's just a glance. I then keep my eyes trained on her profiled face, and then when I feel my face get hot my eyes follow the length of her hair.

I listen to her mumble something but I'm so busy trying to relax and force my face to drop a few degrees I don't really hear.

"So," she says in my ear as I walk her around the deserted black top, "show me a trick," she requests.

"What, we're five seconds in and you're already bored?"

"Yeah, so entertain me. I'm curious."

Just curious. Curiosity can get a girl in a lot of trouble. Look at where it's landed me; I'm staring at her face although she's concentrating down at her feet, waiting for her to look back.

Slowly, she turns. It's that time of the day where the sun is beginning to set, I've shared a few sunsets with Miley so far. But when her eyes meet mine and the golden sunshine fits around her like a halo and all of her that is facing me is shadowed, the thought that this one is different comes to me. Because today, the sun sets on discovery. On newfound feelings, a new chapter in my life, a new adventure and a bond in which I can't imagine a halt in growing.

It's been a moment. I'm half transfixed on her eyes; they're that bright, bright blue at the moment, not one trace of gray in them like when we get out of the sun. And the rest of me is transfixed on my thoughts, the way it's been all day.

This is weird. I realize just how weird it is when Miley steps off my skateboard and she's still looking into my eyes. My hands linger on her hips for a millisecond until I step onto my board.

The blacktop is very smooth. We're at a park we've passed the two times we've walked into town. Either times it's been empty.

I get a feel around. I love skateboarding. I love cutting through the wind like a knife through melted butter, I love when time seems to stop when I pop up in the air for a trick.

But unfortunately, Amber and Ashley don't share this interest. With them, I share others. On good days they'll watch the guys and me skate, but since they don't really care, they get bored quickly. There hasn't been a day like that since winter break.

I position my feet and kind of pump my legs, then spring up in the air and do an ollie.

"Sweet niblets, Lilly, you just went, like two feet in the air!"

I grin. I don't say anything. I'm too busy entertaining.

I glance over at her. Her weight is shifted on one leg so her hip pops to the side. Her tan arms are crossed, her head is cocked. Her eyes are locked onto my feet.

When I look back up, I see I'm rolling towards the grass. I immediately pivot away, and push off.

I spring up and do a kickflip. I land and coast.

"Wow," Miley says, sounding a little far off.

I do a few other tricks. I'm still kind of rusty. A few of my landings are sloppy.

There's a low, metal bike rack over near the parks entrance. I head over to it. I position my feet, spring into the air, and attach my self to it to stall. I try to be gentle, distribute my weight evenly. I begin to wobble and I release.

I coast back over to Miley, whose eyebrows are raised.

I'm getting closer and closer to her. She's waiting for me to stop. I keep rushing towards her. She yelps when I'm an inch away, at which point I do a revert and narrowly avoid her.

I pivot around and flick my board into my hands. I lean over, gripping the trucks, with the tail balancing on the ground.

"You're dangerous," Miley says, like she's discovered the eighth wonder of the world or something.

"No, I'm just fun."

"You're also impressive."

I lift a hand, breathe on my knuckles, and scrub them on the chest of my tank top. "Well, I try."

"No, you don't," Miley says, "that's why it's so impressive."

When she says 'why' it comes out 'whah,' and it makes me grin. That and the compliment that's now causing my cheeks to heat up.

"Aw, look at you, all blushin' and whatnot."

I'm staring. I don't mean to. I just am. She looks up into my eyes, her own flickering about my face like it has words on it or something, and then she reaches out and one of her soft, skinny hands begin to unwrap my fingers from their grip on the trucks, and she pulls my board away from me. She sets it on the ground and sits, off centered, closer to the nose.

She pats the grip tape beside her and I take a step and sit where she inclined.

My entire right side is pressed against hers. The length of my outer thigh is pressed against the length of hers.

We're silent, our own thoughts the only thing we're both listening to, and maybe the bird tweeting solemnly in the distance. Miley has us facing the sun. I look at the way it's dipped everything in gold.

Miley begins to rock the board side to side. I move with her. My hips mold into hers as we roll.

I've established how comfortable it is even when Miley and I aren't talking. It was, when I didn't realize how I truly felt for her. And it still is.

But now, as we sit, and roll and _touch_, it's not that it's awkward. It's just tense, on my part. Not the air. But me, on the inside. I don't realize how tense all my muscles are (besides them being sore from swimming for three and a half hours straight), or how all day I haven't taken one relaxing breath.

I do that then, just as a breeze comes. In, out. I think Miley shudders. Maybe she's cold. It has cooled off a tad.

"Lilly…" Miley says softly. Her voice is gentle, pure. It causes a new wave of butterflies to wash over me.

"Hm?"

"Do y' think… that everything happens for a reason?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Makes sense," she mutters, barely audible.

"Huh? Why?"

"Nothing. Forget I asked, okay?"

_What_? Wait, what does she mean?

"Okay," I say. But inside I'm going crazy with bewilderment.

"I don't have work tomorrow. Come over, whenever you wake up."

"Okay," I say again.

At the thought of doing this with Miley all over again tomorrow, I finally do feel at ease. My muscles and head are still tense and reeling, but my heart is pumping this peaceful bliss all throughout me.

-

We're sitting at the airport. I remember how when I first got here I thought there would be, like, one plane landing in a cornfield, and the place would be a shack. Not this huge, colossal thing bigger than the one back home.

I can scarcely remember what it was like, then. Those feelings. They were so light… I was so naïve. I hadn't seen anything yet.

"Flight 409 to Los Angeles, California" a smooth voice calls over the intercom. It's cold in here.

Me, Max, Mom, and Dad get up and head towards our gates. I see my mother looking at me from the corner of my eye, like she has been this entire time.

I ignore it.

-

I don't get much sleep that night. I keep waking up, flipping open my phone, and staring at this text Miley sent me.

'_sweet dreams! :)_'

I look at it yet again when I wake up. It's early; 9 or 10.

I've thought some more about my feelings. I keep asking myself these questions I can't answer: How much do I like her? Would I kiss her? _Could_ I kiss her? Do I want to be with her?

I just don't know. All of my answers go both ways. No pun intended.

It feels like, if we were back home and I would have Miley in my life much longer than the next two months, I wouldn't be thinking this quick. I feel like everything has to move so fast, including my thought process, and I just can't catch up.

The entire family is downstairs eating breakfast. They're surprised to see me, as Lane scoots over on the booth and I sit.

"What are you doing up so early, Lilly?" my dad asks.

"Eh, I'm just going over Miley's," I say casually.

"Oh, really?" Carly chimes in. It feels like I haven't seen my cousins in forever, I've been so wrapped up with Miley. Carly opens her mouth so say something else, but I see her jerk up as though something contacted her. Something like Chris's foot to her leg. And she shuts up.

"Yep," I say, as I serve myself some waffles.

"Wow, we might have to bring that girl back home with us," my mom says.

I can feel my lowered, inquiring brow as I look to her. I suddenly wonder how everyone would react if they knew cousin Lilly liked that girl down the street.

"Maybe then you'd actually wake up before 3 in the afternoon."

I chuckle, but it's halfhearted.

This entire time, I didn't realize how much I'm going to miss Miley when I have to leave here. Of course my mother had to spark the thought.

I quickly snap myself out of the thought, and the sadness that struck my insides vanishes. I dig into my breakfast.

-

I watch my black flip-flop clad feet step along the road, and think about that question I asked myself yesterday.

I crossed the line. The one between platonic feelings and thoughts and romantic ones.

I should be scared about that. But there's not enough time to be scared.

_I've crossed the line! I'm on the other side!_ I'm mentally screaming it at myself, but I get no jolt of surprise, no rejection by my body of the thought.

In fact, it just makes more sense; looking at things from this… 'side'.

-

I'm at Miley's front door and I've just rung the doorbell. I hear foot steps from inside.

When the door opens, I see a ridiculously gorgeous woman. Her face is slightly wrinkled and aged, just slightly, so I'm guessing mid-early forties, late thirties. She has dark brown hair, very defined cheek bones, and cobalt eyes exactly like Miley's. In fact, she looks strikingly like Brooke Shields.

"Hi, you must be Mrs. Stewart," I say.

"Yes, I am," she says with a kind smile, "and who are you?"

I open my mouth to tell her, but she beats me to it.

"Oh, you must be Lilly!" She hastily opens the screen door and ushers me into the house. "Miley doesn't quit her talkin' about you! I'm so glad you're visiting for the summer, Miley gets so bored around here, with her friends so far away."

I grin. I'm already fond of this woman, clad in sweats and over sized Reba concert T-shirt.

"Well, I'm glad you're glad." Our eyes meet, and I feel small, yet proud. Proud that I'm off on such a good foot with this woman.

What would you think of me if you knew how I felt about your daughter? I ask Mrs. Stewart silently. But I quickly shake the thought away. Do I _want_ to make myself feel the slight awkwardness of this situation tenfold?

"I can see why Miley likes you," Mrs. Stewart says, her hand falling from the door knob behind her.

I can't. I'm not quite sure what she means, but I smile, genuinely, and thank her.

"Well, ah," Mrs. Stewart clears her throat, "I think she's in the kitchen, or maybe upstairs. You know where her room is? And you can get upstairs through the kitchen too, if y' didn't know. I'm about to run out, I got a few errands to take care of."

"Oh, okay, nice meeting you," I say with another smile.

"You too," she says as she passes me, still with a friendly grin, finally looking away at some point, and then up the stairs.

I walk down the hall, into the kitchen, where I hear a spoon clanking against ceramic glass.

Then I'm a tad bit taken aback by the sight before me.

Miley sits in a pink spaghetti strap top besides a shirtless, golden haired guy, his face is angled downwards at his bowl of cereal as he lets out a cough, and her hand is behind him, I suppose pressed to his back.

Miley never said anything about a brother, or a sibling…

My heart sinks and a painful lump rises in my throat… Miley has a _boyfriend. _

Fuck.

The guy pounds on his chest and raises his head, just as Miley turns to me.

"Hey, Lilly," she says.

I recognize the guy from somewhere… he looks so familiar…

J… Jackson! The guy from the Trails Miley works with! Shit, they must have been having some fight that time I went to go get her when she was done and he called her back over.

Oh, Christ. Shit. I realize that Miley's boyfriend is here, in the _morning_, shirtless, and _fuck_.

They must be _sleeping_ together.

God. Oh my god.

Miley, you could do SO much better…

I try to greet Miley in return, and maybe even Jackson although I've already decided I hate him and he's eternally on my Shit List. But I give her nothing but a quirked brow.

I'm glancing between the two, wondering how exactly the stupid guy got a beauty like Miley. Maybe there are no attractive guys around here.

Miley now looks at me with a confused expression, Jackson just stares blankly.

I imagine I look like a fish out of water, standing there with my mouth opening and closing wordlessly, glancing back and forth and back and forth between the two.

"What are you…" Miley trails off, "Do you—you don't—"

Jackson now looks at Miley, then back to me. I glance at his bare chest and then back to Miley one more time.

"Oh—OH, GOD!" Miley shouts, "Lilly, Lilly, no, Jackson and I are brother and sister!"

My entire body seems to deflate momentarily, relief washes over me. "Okay, god, I'm sorry, I just assumed…"

"No, no, it's fine, I forgot to mention him. Jeez, you're not very observant are you?"

"How was I supposed to—"

She points over at the counter, and at some more photographs hanging on the wall above it. There's a photo of a golden haired baby boy and a light brown haired baby girl with striking dark blue eyes.

I giggle sheepishly. "My bad."

It's silent.

"What…?" Jackson says, obviously clueless.

I look at Miley. We burst into laughter.

"Nothin'," she says. "Just go back to your cave."

"I am!" Jackson retorts, "but not 'cause you told me to!" He snatches his bowl from the table, and stomps towards the stair way between the hall way entrance and the table. "Oh, and nice seein' ya Lilly, even though I don't got a clue what you're sayin'"

I laugh. "Yeah, you too."

I sit in the seat across from Miley, who slips a spoonful of cereal in her mouth. I watch her chew. It's a cute sight. Her eyes get kind of wide and her lips are all scrunchy.

She swallows, and says with a smile,"Well, that wa'nit awkward or an'thing." Her accent seems more prominent than usual. Maybe because she just woke up?

"No, not a bit. Jeez, I'm so stupid."

"Yeah." She goes back to eating her cereal.

I look at her until she tells me she's kidding. She just stares at me and takes another bite.

She laughs loudly when she swallows. "The look on your face! Oh, I'm just kiddin' Lilly-pie."

"_Lilly-pie_? I thought we talked about this, no name variations." Man, I love play-scolding her. I find myself on the edge of my seat waiting for a heated, clever response. Miley does have a sharp tongue.

"Okay, but you have stingray, I need a name for you, despite you're borin' ord'nary nickname pref'rence."

"No you don't. And I'm not boring. I'm creative. Aren't I, stingray?"

She giggles. "God, that sounds too stupid, please stop calling me that."

"Okay, I won't call you stingray if you don't come up with something equally as stupid."

"Deal," she says while I'm in the middle of the word 'stupid'.

She goes back to eating, and I'm staring hard at the table.

That feeling… that rage, the jealousy, and hurt. I was just furious like I've never been a few minutes ago. I mean, I wanted to wring Jackson's neck, a completely innocent guy, just at the thought that he could be… argh.

What does it all _mean_…

-

**Please, **_**please**_** forgive me for the horrid lack of creativity in the line right above this. Not to draw attention to it. But Jesus.**

**Oh, and the horrid wait. Please forgive me for that too:)**

**Obviously this chapter delves a bit further into Lilly's thoughts and feelings. And if you didn't notice this story is pretty much all fluff. Maybe someday I can create something meaningful, maybe one of those multiple storyline type of things.**

**And hopefully I'm capturing Lilly reactions and feelings and crap efficiently… tell me if anything sounds wrong. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon, because I'm gonna be super busy for the rest of the summer after the next week, then there's school, sooo… Haha. God this is long. Longer than necessary. Okay, bye!**


	7. Found the Formula

**Seriously, I apologize for the uselessness of the first 2500 or so words of this. Really. I kind of hate it but I need to fill in time in the story's world, and something happens that comes up later. Again. Sorry. XD **

-

"Your mom's a milf."

I snicker mentally to myself, but I go dead quiet when Miley says, "Is she?"

Wait, did I say that out loud?

"Dammit… um. That wasn't meant for your ears."

My voice is all crackly, as if I just woke up. Quite the contrary—I'm about to fall asleep. I blame it on last night's lack of sleep, and the fact that Miley's bed is a Tempur-Pedic. I imagine this is what lying in a bed of cotton candy feels like, and it's absolutely gorgeous.

Miley's bedroom is flooded with daylight and the scent of laundry detergent and something else I can't quite put my finger on. It's very soothing. As if the knowledge that she is laying beside me isn't enough, the pure scent of her I've caught the times we've hugged or been in close proximity is constantly wafting up into my nostrils.

We're not touching, but we're so close I can feel the warmth radiating off her arm and leg.

At this moment, I'm absolutely humming with… contentment? More than that?

Miley sniggers, "You're not the first to say that." Her voice is normal. She's wide awake.

"Yeah, I can see why. She's really pretty," I sigh, like it takes a lot of effort, which it does because I'm suddenly exhausted, choosing a statement I would use before my realization of being attracted to girls. I'm not trying to give Miley the idea I have the hots for her mom.

"Too bad Lilly, she's taken," Miley grins.

"Puh-lease, if I wanted, I could get her to drop your dad in an achey-breaky heartbeat."

Miley giggles, and my heart kind of shoots up into my throat. "Oh yeah, she's gonna leave the man she's loved for almost two decades for a sixteen year old girl she's met once, who uses unbelievably corny song ref'rences out loud."

I laugh. "Precisely. Seriously though, I don't want your," And then I yawn, "…mom"

"Somebwody s'eepy?" Miley questions in baby speak. My throat-ridden heart pulsates or something, because this lightheaded euphoria washes through me.

I could get used to this.

I flip onto my side, towards Miley. I pull my arm up, throw it up over the pillow and snuggle into it. "Maybe," I croak. I try to clear my throat but I can tell it's not going to sound any clearer.

My eyes drift close. I listen intently to the television. I open my eyes again to find them heavy, but I peek up at Miley anyway.

Her chest rises and falls peacefully. Her eyes are aimed at the television; she doesn't notice me looking at her. Her brow is lowered slightly, as if she's in thought or a bit confused or something. It's adorable. Her chestnut and caramel-tinted hair follow the curves of her chest, bending up along her boobs and swarming all around her neck.

I close my eyes and open them again. I stare hard, close my eyes, open them, and finally close them. I don't want to forget what she looks like at this moment.

I reach down to the waist band of my black soccer shorts and unclip my phone. I press a button and the camera is on. I decide to be a total creep and aim it at Miley, and I take her picture with an animated shutter click that startles her.

"Lilly! Erase that, I look like crap!" Her eyes are aimed at me. She's facing the light streaming in through the huge window I can't see but know is behind me, and it makes her glow, completely, like she's some kind of airbrushed photo lying before me.

Her eyes, though, are what truly catch me. They're not blue-gray, like usual. They're blue-green. The color gets lighter around her pupils; her irises are lined with a dark gray. My stomach tightens suddenly with butterflies.

"Oh shut up, you're gorgeous," I say meekly to my phone as I press save.

"There's no need t' suck up, you little brown noser. That better not be saved," she says in a dangerous tone, and turns back to the TV.

"It's not," I sigh into the pillow. I slip my other arm under the pillow, my phone gripped in it, so hopefully Miley won't take it and get rid of the picture in my sleep.

I can barely hear it, but I block out the TV and tune into Miley's slow, deep breathing. It's weird how people breathe involuntarily.

You know what else is weird? I get so comfy with people's rooms so fast. I've never hesitated to hop right into somebody's bed the first time I've visited their bedroom. I find it silly if Oliver or Amber or someone and I go to an acquaintance's house for one reason or another, and they feel so awkward that they just stand the entire time. I wonder if it gets on people's nerves.

"Miley?" I say, voice sounding its croakiest yet.

"Hm?" She sounds happy. I peek over my arm again to find her head tilted towards me but a smile on her face and her eyes on the TV. This makes me grin stupidly into my own arm. That and the scent of her just renewed itself in my nose. I inhale deeply and sigh. The scent fills me, along with a big batch of butterflies, yet again. This question is stupid but I sorta just want to hear her voice before I fall asleep.

"The other day when I first came over, did you find it weird that I just kind of… hopped into your bed?" The croaky-ness of my voice is almost embarrassing.

I look at Miley again. In the clear light, I can see her cheeks are dusted pink, but it sure as hell wasn't there a few minutes ago. Why is she blushing? Is it me? The TV? Me?

And then she giggles. "No, I didn't. I don't really care. Go to sleep, Lilly."

"Okay." And I do just that, falling into a thick, calm slumber.

-

"Lilly… get up…" she's saying in a very sweet voice, shaking me gently by the arm, and I can feel the softness of her hand even while I'm in that shortly-lived place between asleep and awake.

I'm sleeping in her _bed_. I am sleeping in Miley's bed… I sing about it in my head. A whole song, lyrics complied of that one fact over and over. In your generic I-have-something-you-don't singsong melody.

"I'm up," I groan into the pillow.

I finally open my eyes… to see Miley's coral pink nails pressing into the mattress, and then the rest of her slim, tanned arm, her tan color really stands out in the still-glowing daylight.

I look to her eyes to see the deep blue set strictly on me, all of her attention is on me, and it's suddenly mind-boggling. It makes me hot all over.

I look up into her face… but she seems to be raking my body with her eyes. I shudder at the look of concentrate on her face.

"What? What is it?" I ask frantically.

She reaches over and peels back the blanket that's clipped beneath my arms.

And then she climbs on top of me. I'm looking into her face, trying to call her eyes to meet mine. She sits on my bladder, and sort of squeezes her legs against my hips as if she's going to fall off of me and her bed.

Oh, fuck, what that _does_ to me…

"What are you…"

She leans down, so far down I am eye level with her cleavage, where her skin looks especially soft… the sight is so absolutely gorgeous I make this little whine against the front of my throat. It feels like the lava rushing through me is now flooding my ear canals, and suddenly its as though my ears popped out like I'm on the plane ten thousand miles in the air.

Her face moves closer and closer like a bird soaring through the sky or a wave pummeling through the ocean. I instinctively tilt my head a little bit from its spot on the pillow, and Holy God, this is it!

I wait for her lips. I wait and wait. I feel nothing but her weight on my waist.

Then I feel a hot trickle of air on my lips, it's her breath and it drives me _crazy_. I give another little involuntary whimper—shit, my entire body is pumped with that amazing feeling, like I'm beyond turned on, I'm pumped and ravenous for that slim body and those pretty blue eyes and pouty, glossy lips that probably taste as good as they look.

I can't take it anymore—I have to know. Nearly by its own accord, my head reaches for her, my own lips the pilot. I'm reaching… reaching… and there's nothing.

I remember how soft her chest looked, so I reach up a hand to feel… but something wraps around my forehead and pushes me back down.

Unh, _god_, her touch is searing hot. I let out a groan. The area where she's seated is absolutely pulsating, my heart is racing so heavily it's almost painful, god, how couldn't she feel the way my entire being is throbbing out of control?

It's her hand that's on my forehead. I groggily open my eyes for a split second and see her arm leading to my head.

"Unh, god, wait, how'd I open them twice…" My eyes, I mean.

"Open what?"

I open my eyes… and I find myself in Miley's bedroom. The daylight isn't as bright anymore, but Miley still glows in it. Miley's clothes are the exact same as they were when I fell asleep—a gray hoodie with big blue letters saying 'TSU' and a little tiger head centered beneath it, and white boxers with yellow smiley faces all over them.

But, her arm actually is raised and I still feel the heat of her hand against my forehead.

"Jesus Lilly, what the _heck_ were you dreamin' about? I can feel how hot you are from over here," Miley says.

Oh, _shit._

I'm looking at her, balanced on my propped up elbows, and I'm panting, and I'm sweating. I throw the blankets off of me and collapse back against the bed, shut my eyes until I catch my breath.

Although I didn't get to do anything to Miley in my lucid dream, I reply the entire thing in my head, thanking god I didn't forget it already.

"I…I forget. What time is it?" I try desperately to change the subject.

Then Miley's voice gets all low and light, "Two-something. Thanks for sleeping for five hours, by the way. And, I don't think you could forget whatever was gettin' all those noises outta you so fast."

I freeze, horrified. I can hear her saying the words through a smile, and when I turn to look, the lingering throbbing right below my stomach starts right back up, because she has this smirk on her face which makes the words 'horribly' and 'sexy' pop into my mind.

She reaches out and presses two fingers to the bottom of my jaw, pushing my unknowingly agape mouth shut. She chuckles lightly, to no avail of my current concupiscence and… Oh Miley, what are you doing to me…

Shit, fuck, _damn_, what do I do, what do I say… How the hell did this _happen_? Those feelings… in the dream… I've never felt anything that intense in my whole life!

And looking at Miley is just making it a reality. It wasn't like this before! Yes, I find her attractive and stuff, I've felt tiny pangs of arousal at certain moments, but nothing like this lasting throbbing and ridiculous inability to _speak_.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, I'm in total panic mode—come on Lilly! Think, think!

Alright. Okay. I can do this. I have a plan.

"It was you."

Shit… that was stupid! This isn't going to work! I hastily add a cheesy smile and pretend I'm preventing giggles to signify that I'm joking. This will work.

Miley makes this snort-chuckle and says slowly, "No, seriously, who was it? It better not 'a been my mom" Oh, thank god, it worked. Now the option of it being Miley is completely out of the question.

"Well..." I joke.

Miley gasps and slaps the bed out of excitement. As pathetic as it is, imagining her committing those actions in another situation… "Lilly! Oh my god, get outta my house!" I can't really tell if she's joking or serious.

"I'm just joking! It was… a guy from back home."

I expect to hear an, "Oh, okay," or maybe a few inquisitions on our history together that I would have to make up. Although I have gotten as far with a guy as I did with dream Miley, I've never felt anything like my dream-body's response with them.

But instead, the room gets so silent I swear it could swallow me up.

"Oh. I didn't know you had a boyfriend," Miley says in this low, hurt voice.

"I don't!" I say quickly. I clear my throat. "He's just a friend. I don't even like him, I just think he's hot." Whoever he is.

"Oh."

And we lay there with both our eyes glued to a marine life episode on Animal Planet, in silence.

I feel terrible, and frustrated. She sounds upset. I want to ask, 'Oh, Miley, why do you sound upset at the thought of me having a boyfriend?' but I don't want to put her in that corner, because then that puts me right there with her. I don't really know why, but I just can't do that. Not yet.

God, I'm never going to forget that dream. My body seems to have calmed down, finally.

My vision wanders from the television and edges slightly towards Miley. She seems to be lying with her arm on her other side from me tucked under her head. Her arm closest to me leads down. I look to my waist, then over at hers.

Oh, _god_. Her shirt rides up so I can see the rounding of her hipbone and from seeing her in a bikini, I'm aware Miley has that 'v-card' muscle that Ashley and Amber enjoy pointing out on some of the guys I surf with that also have six packs and softball sized muscles. On Miley it's delicate and feminine, very unlike a guy's—I think I like it more that way. Looking at it up close now immediately yanks all of those hot feelings right back inside of me.

Besides that, what _really_ gets me going is what her other hand is doing. Lightly, absently, she traces the bare strip of skin on her stomach side to side… over and over…

I can't control my respiratory system anyways, but suddenly I inhale a huge breath of air and my chest even kind of… rolls off the bed. I'm left with all these aroused feelings thumping through me when I get back down. Did she notice?

I'm thinking about all those times she's put her hands on me. The softness of them. I'm staring kind of hard at the one traveling along the waistband of her boxers. I want to grab it and touch it so badly.

That sounds extremely creepy. Cool it Lilly, you don't want to turn into that much of a freak.

I sigh to myself, and turn my attention back to the TV. A huge circular creature is scoping along the ocean floor in one shot.

"Hey, I didn't know you were famous, Miley!"

"Huh?"

"You're on TV," I say, pointing at the stingray that's now skimming above the camera's eye so you can see its white belly.

Miley's backhands my thigh. Her touch is searing hot, to me. "Alright, that's it. From here on out, you're Queen Lillian."

I giggle before I can help myself. It sounds extremely goofy and if possible, my cheeks burn further, out of embarrassment. "Whatever you say, stingray."

"Don't rhyme at me, mad'm."

"Seriously, you're just going to refer to me as royalty? If your objective with the nickname is to annoy me, you're gonna have to try harder."

"Well, it's actu'ly a type 'a joke… since your farthest from royal or elegant as possible. Get it?"

"Har har. Yes, I do. Now go get the queen a beverage."

"I'm not your slave!"

"Yes, but I'm your queen. Now go."

She just hits me, and the butterflies in my gut are almost unbearable. I shut up.

Another productive day with Miley Stewart. God, I'm in heaven, even if I am a little _unsatisfied_ if you catch my drift. But the physical aspect of that condition sort of makes it better. I have to laugh at the irony. Here I thought this trip would be hell.

-

About a week has passed since that stupid dream, and since I've crossed the line. I think about it at least fifty different times everyday, whether I'm with Miley or without.

I can't say I've gotten used to my—err—reactions to her. The feeling is out of this world, intense like a broken bone. It stumps me that the body can produce such strong sensations. And getting them about a girl is a whole 'nother animal.

I had another dream about Miley two nights later, equally as, well, hot, and again last night. They were all different, but I see a pattern in them. In one way or another I crave Miley's touch in them but I'm restrained in some form. I translate that literally into me wanting Miley but something preventing me from obtaining her. Does that come back into reality? Is there something holding me back that I don't know about? Maybe fear.

Because now that I have these feelings, what am I going to do about them? Sit here for the next two months and hide them? Yeah, probably.

But… what if I _didn't. _What if I ran over to Miley's right now and kissed her right on the lips? What would she do? What would she say?

As absolutely _insane_ as the idea obviously is… I only have two months with Miley. A) I'll probably never see her again if things go wrong, and B) I'll regret not taking the chance with someone so special for a long time, possibly the rest of my life. Who knows if these feelings will stay in this place when I leave it?

I can see myself chickening out. I need some help. But really, who can I go to?

Today is different than the other days of the summer so far, even though its just morning. Instead of a bright, sunny sky, it's silver with puffs of smoky gray clouds.

I'm up early today, before the rest of the house. Last night's dream about Miley included a dark, humid forest and some vines that left me in a huge cold sweat. I think it's safe to say I got little sleep after that.

My phone suddenly buzzes to life from its spot between me and Rex on the couch. Rusty's at my feet, swiping his smooth, wet tongue along my bare toes every now and then.

'_hey t-cott, miss ya! huge swell hr 2day, rminds me of the time u bailed last summer lmao'_

I grin. It's from Oliver.

I'm struck with the fact that I haven't updated him with the news of my newfound feelings towards Miley.

I rapidly type back, '_hah yeah, kinda like the time 'your foot slipped' on that two footer… hxc. can i call?' _My heart is beating against my ribcage and my stomach feels all queasy. Why am I so nervous? It's just Oliver. We've shared everything since the 64 pack of crayons since Kindergarten, and I know he has no problem with girl-on-girl. Seriously… god, just repress the memories Lilly, just repress…

'_Please take me by the hand_

_It's so cold out tonight, _

_I'll put blankets on the bed_

_I won't turn out the l—'_

"Hello?" I say breathlessly into the phone. I'm trembling with nerves. I suddenly realize how cold I am, and look at my legs to find them broken out in a ton of goose bumps. I entertain my weakened hands by stroking the black, silky-furred dog beside me.

"What's up, Lil?" Oliver asks. It's probably sunny and warm where he is.

I reconsider telling him.

No. I have to. He's my best friend.

"Well… okay, I ought to cut to the chase…"

"Uhm…" he sounds like he just had the wind knocked out of him. He's obviously not expecting to be bombarded with my problem. Or expecting that I _have_ a problem. "Is everything alright? Something happen?" Genuine concern bleeds through the bewilderment.

"Yeah, actually… I met someone." Shit, how am I gonna put this?

"_Really_? So what's the problem?" I hear Oliver gulping a drink or something.

Spit it out, Lilly, come on, Nike, just do it. "It's a girl." I sound oddly calm. Eerily so.

And whatever Oliver what just gulping has been sputtered out loudly, sounding like television static.

Oliver coughs a little bit, but then it's just silent.

Then I start to giggle… not because it's slightly awkward, just because I feel so much lighter without the huge secret of being attracted to another girl on my shoulders.

And now the paranoia enters. "No one heard that, right? No speakerphone, or anything?"

"No, no, just me…"

"Shocked?"

"Oddly… no. Surprised, but not too surprised. No offense, not trying to say I knew all along and think you're a dyke, 'cause I totally—"

I laugh again. He's talking a mile a minute. My nervousness is melting away belatedly. "That's so weird, I felt the exact same way when I realized!"

Oliver sighs of relief. "Cool. So. Who is she?"

"Miley."

"Ahh, yeah, you did say she was hot."

"Upon inquiry."

"Hm… but, is she?"

"No."

Oliver's silent. Then confused. "Sooo… she's ug—"

"She's gorgeous."

Oliver takes that in, then he breaks into laughter. I follow shortly, realizing how absolutely _corny_ that just sounded.

"Oh my god, you're such a little bisexual dork!"

That shuts me up.

"Um… sorry, I didn't mean that, no one heard, either. Really, I—"

"No, it's okay…" my voice is soft, "I just… it's weird to hear it out loud."

"It was weird to say it. But that's what you are. Unless you're one hundred percent for the other team?" It's cool how normal Oliver is about this. It's a huge relief to have a voice of tranquility in the tense sea-storm of confusion I've been stranded in.

"No. I'm not. So… yeah. I am. Bi, I mean."

"Ah… so… what's she like?"

"Well… she's super pretty. She's built like a model, dresses cute, does everything… cute-ly. We've just been hanging out a lot, and she's really fun." I could go on for days, but I leave it at that.

"Do y'think she likes you?"

"I dunno. I haven't really been trying to figure it out."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, I think I'm just trying to get used to the fact, y'know? It all happened so fast. But that's the reason I needed to talk. I'm wondering if I should… well, go for it."

"Hm, we'll, let's look at the pro's and con's…" Oliver Oken has to be my favorite person on the face of the Earth right now. Well, tied with Miley. He's the best friend in existence, seriously. How many straight people would be totally cool with their best friend being bi _and_ giving them as much advice as they can about it? I plan to thank him with everything I own and am when this phone call is ending.

He says a 'thanks' in the background and I hear him swallow some more.

"Pro's: if anything blows up in my face, I never have to see her again, and I could regret letting it pass me by for the rest of my life."

"Cons?"

"Um… the next two months will be hell and… I would be kind of hurt. And I'm deathly scared of doing anything, to be honest."

"Okay," Oliver says in an abrupt tone, "remember that time when we were, like, ten, and just started skating and we were at Motley's with Matt and his big brother, for the first time?"

"Yeah?" Motley's is the park we skate at. I can see where this is going.

"And remember when we were standing at the top of that little quarter pipe and we were scared as hell to go down?"

"Mhm…" a mental image of me looking down at a battered pair of old, small skate shoes over in a shady corner of the skate park I've ripped up just about every inch of by now flashes in my mind.

"But you went and did it?"

"Oliver, I face-planted and chipped two teeth."

"Yeah, yeah, but think about it. No matter what, you had to go through the injury to get to where you are now, as a kickass skater. You know that poster in Mr. Merrick's class, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take… blah, blah, blah… but you know what I mean?"

…Wow. He's right. As cheesy as it is, I can feel something light swirling from my chest to my tummy… _hope_. "Yeah… I love you, Oliver." I have a stupid smile on my face at my bromantic confession… even though I'm a female, so it's not actually a bromance, but whatever.

"Love ya too, Lil. So, what are you gonna do?"

"Well, as inspiring as your little pep talk was… shit, I'm just nervous. I want to take it slow."

"I don't know about that, you don't have much time… and what's there to be nervous about?"

"She's… there's no way she could like me back." I sigh. I kind of knew all along but I haven't admitted it.

"Why not?"

"Oliver, you have to see her… she's _gorgeous_, like I said."

"And you're not?"

I'm floored. I was still petting Rex, but my hand freezes. Rusty licks my toes and I jump a little.

"Um…"

"Lilly, come _on_. I'm not just saying it. It's a known fact. Amber and Ashley say things about you all the time when you're not around. If you're name is ever brought up during a 'guy conversation' it's always something positive, and it's definitely not just 'Lilly is so clean with her tre flips'... You might not dress straight out of Seventeen, but you're face and figure totally make up for it. You're a natural beauty, and—"

"Okay, okay, I get it! I get it. Thanks, though. As gay as you sound, I swear you're the only guy in Seaview that actually knows the name of a magazine portraying girls with clothes on."

"Hey, hypocrite, they help me with the _ladies_. Ease up."

I laugh. I realize suddenly I only actually _giggle_ around Miley. Ugh, god, she probably thinks I'm such a dork. "I think I need more complimenting."

"Alright, how about this. Are you going to see her today?"

"Um, it's possible. Why?"

"Send me a picture of her."

"That's not creepy or anything."

"Just do it, and I'll give my honest opinion on whether you could bag her or not."

"Actually, I have a picture, and I'm not trying to 'bag' her, I'm trying to se_duce_ her."

"Send it—I have to go, Matt and Connor are coming back, they're gonna wonder who I'm talking to and what about, I don't know if you want them to know…"

"No!" I shout.

"Ear drums!" Oliver complains.

I just laugh. "Thanks, so much Ollie. Seriously, you're the best friend a girl cou—"

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, love you too, you're secrets safe with me, talk to ya later, bye!"

I hear a disconnecting click and snap my phone shut.

I look over at Rex. He looks at me, panting with a small puddle of slobber on the leather couch beneath him, his strawberry pink tongue clashing with his ink black color.

"Mission accomplished," I say to him.

He licks my hand.

-

We're heading into the airplane through the gates. Usually I'd be boyishly intrigued by how science-fictional it looks, but I don't even think of it.

I follow behind Max into the plane with a heavy heart.

And I'm thinking how a lot of the things that happened with Miley, if not the entire thing, were all out of fate.

-

Miley's sitting on the porch, wearing a black tank top, denim jean shorts, and beat up white Adidas shell-tops that may have been pearly white in an earlier era but are now brown, frayed and dirty. She sits on the lowest wooden step with her elbows propped on the one above, rolling her heels on the ground to tap the toes of her sneakers together absently, over and over.

I hear her singing softly, I can't tell what. She has yet to put on a performance for me with a guitar, but she sings frequently, and from what I hear, she really does have a gorgeous voice. All raspy, but she often sings without a southern twang, kind of like when Leona Lewis loses her accent, which kind of stops my brain from working because it sounds so different.

The sky is still all shades of gray, but Miley's skin contrasts it. She glows more than usual with everything around her dull of its color.

The stupid grin wouldn't disappear from my face if Miley was about to tell me my grandmother just died.

"You rang for help, ma'am?"

After my chat with Oliver this morning, I decided to text Miley to see if she was up early; which she was. She invited me over to help her with her chores.

She looks up belatedly, seeming to have spaced out staring at her toes that have paused in their movement. "Since queens don't have t' do work, I guess you can just watch."

_No problem_. "Don't underestimate the monarchy, minion."

She seems happy to see me. But… I was happy to hear Oliver's voice on the phone.

Shit, how in the world am I going to figure out if she likes me that way? Ugh… this is kind of a disaster… no matter how exhilarating butterflies feel.

Miley leads me around the back. It's pretty windy. The trees sway roughly in the distance.

"What are we doing, by the way?" I ask.

"Um… just feedin'."

"The animals?"

"No, Lilly, the cannibalistic men we keep in the shed. _Yes_, the animals."

"Pfft. It was a rhetorical question." I say, giving Miley a shove, of which she returns. Her skin is smooth, as always, but I just never get tired of feeling it, let alone looking at it.

I think I feel a raindrop.

"Glad to see ya know what the word 'rhetorical' means."

"I know what it means!" I argue as my phone buzzes. I slip it from my pocket, no sooner than it's taken from my hand.

Shit, she can't read that… it's Oliver's reply to the picture of her I just sent him!

"Whoa, whoa, hey," I say, lunging for my phone, but Miley dances from my hand.

This calls for drastic measures.

I quickly embrace Miley around the waist, my ear pressing to her hip, and drop her as lightly as possible to the ground.

She's trying to squirm out of my arms, but I get up and sit on her stomach.

She begins to giggle and cries playful shouts of 'no!" as I snatch at her fist that swirls away from my reach like a butterfly.

I finally grip her closed fist and begin working away her fingers. For appendages so slim and dainty, she sure has some strength in those hands. I'm scared I'll sprain her finger, but Miley's a little tougher than she looks, I suppose.

She's using her other hand to try and pry mine away, giggling all the while.

I glance at her face to see a grin. The sight of her beneath me on the ground, with her wavy hair all askew around her head—naturally—makes the part of me seated on her, well, 'awaken'. Jeez, this early?

I finally pry my phone from her grasp, dismount her (god, terrible choice of words, I'm now _throbbing_), and sprint away to read…

'_wow… looks pretty cute, cant rly see the face, but w/e. kno 4 sure u could make it happen. good luck!'_

A grin forms on my face as I erase the message. I'm going to my sent message and erasing the picture message of her as well when I hear pounding, quick footsteps behind me and a jumble of weight and limbs on my back.

Miley squeezes onto my sides and flails her arms in an attempt to re-capture my phone. I toss it to the grass a foot or two away.

"Aw, you're no fun…" she pouts.

Sheesh, if I didn't know any better… this whole little episode would appear a bit flirtatious in my eyes. But that's just Miley, I suppose.

I wonder if I should make a comment, but I quickly lose the nerve because Miley is bending over to grab my phone, and it's not like she has a fatty or anything but, god, I don't mind what she _does_ have.

Christ, could I be any more perverted… a beat of self-disgust pulses through me, but I shove it down when Miley speaks.

"What was in that phone that I couldn't see, Queenie?"

"Don't you have chores to do?"

"Lilly, you said you erased this! God, my chin looks like Uncle Earl's gut on Thanksgivin'!"

I almost stop her, but then I remember Oliver has the picture anyway, and I can always take more…

Alright, weird, obsessive Miley thoughts stop… right about now.

She gets rid of it, gives my phone back, and with a huff, she strides past me.

I feel another raindrop.

I jog and catch up with her. "Aw, you aren't mad at me, are you, stingy?"

She just keeps walking.

I don't really know why, but I openhandedly slap her ass, just a small tap, and zip by her.

I turn back to her with my tongue sticking out, but I have to laugh at the look on her face. She pulls that faux-astonishment card.

After I let her get me back, in which she _punches_ me in the ass, right on the bone, our banter is over.

And it's enough to tell me I may possibly have a chance with this. Being with her, I mean.

We finally reach the horse stables, I guess we're starting there, when Miley says, "Darn, it's rainin'" even though fat drops have been falling for the past five minutes. Jeez, the horses are far away.

I lean up against the stable doors and listen to the rain gradually begin to pelt the ground outside faster and faster. I watch Miley set a special mixture of food and a few cups of water out for each of the horses' stables.

I'm especially transfixed on her arm muscles. She has very skinny arms, but as she gets further and further away, the definition of them become more and more obvious.

Her face portrays no emotion. Her pretty lips are set in a hard line. I'm thinking about the first time we ever talked in the stables at the Trails. How at first Miley intimidated me, how she always made me feel different even if at first I didn't realize what was actually going on…

"What are you smilin' about over there?" She asks, her relaxed features cracking into a smile of her own from four stables away.

"Ah, nothing."

She's carrying a bucket of water wider than her waist but she doesn't seem to be having much trouble. She fills up the last stall. She then places her thumb and index finger and her mouth and releases a shrill, loud whistle that I'm not prepared for and it breaks the calming rhythm of the rain.

We walk over to the pig pen, while chilly raindrops fall on us, but Miley doesn't seem to mind, so neither do I.

Miley rounds the pig pen to a huge barrel, of which she opens the top to reveal these oversized guinea pig pellets.

"Ew, what _is_ that?"

"Pig food." She says 'food' like 'fewd' and I break into laughter.

"Somethin' funny?"

"'Pig fewd'" I repeat, through giggles.

"Oh, ha, ha, let's all laugh at the Tennessee girl and her funny accent. You know, you talk weird, too. I'd shut up."

"Well, yeah you would."

She throws some pellets at me.

"Hey!" I reach into the barrel, grab a small handful, and Miley runs away when I try to return the fire.

The pigs begin an uproar of oinking, and I release their now wasted food, watching a few of them hit Miley who's now some yards away.

"Yer pigs wahn't thur fewd!" I shout at her, laughing.

The rain is coming down harder; I can feel it seep into my scalp. The dirt ground is darkened and damp.

She comes back over to me and casually begins scooping food into a tin bucket, but suddenly pauses and punches me in the arm, _hard_. With her bony knuckles.

"OWW!" I yelp.

"That's what you get 'fer dis'respe'tin'!" She tries to make the "that's what you get" part as normal as possible, but then make the "for disrespecting" extremely hillbilly.

"That sounded exactly the same."

Miley rolls her eyes, and huffs, then walks away with the bucket. She doesn't smile.

"Wait! I'm sorry!" I call out, _god_, am I pathetic.

She's already inside the pig pen, tossing some food on the ground for the half a dozen full grown beasts, but pouring the majority in a long canister attached to the pen.

I'm momentarily transfixed on the brown puddles forming in the dirt. My hair is now plastered to my head, face, and shoulders.

Miley comes back to the barrel again, and I stare her down. She's playfully ignoring me.

"I'm sorry," I say.

She ignores me. Shit, is she actually mad?

"I was only kidding," I say in my most sincere tone. "Your accent is fine. It's cute." I keep my eyes glued to the ground as I confess my true opinion.

"Lyin' is a sin, Queenie," she says as she walks away.

I follow, hot on her step. "Who's telling lies?"

"You. I hate soundin' like a hick. It sounds stupid," she says, and I'm taken aback. I didn't know she disliked things about herself. Let alone one of the cuter things. Even though anything would be a cute thing.

"Maybe to you," I say. I grow braver and braver by the second. I reach and grab hold of the handle to the bucket, and walk beside her so we can share the weight. _Damn_, it's heavy.

But the tiny smile she gives doesn't go unnoticed by me. Nor do the raindrops trailing down her arms… and chest… and legs…

"Me and all 'a society."

"Miley, come on, there's nothing wrong with a Southern accent!"

She sighs. "Forget it."

I help her tip the bucket into the canister, where the pigs have already gathered and are eating noisily.

"Mahley, ah'm afrayed ah cain't dew thayat. Wood it mayke y' feel bettuhr if ah joined ya?" I return to my normal voice, "I think I could adjust easily, you just say the word and—"

I hear a loud splash, and suddenly tons of muddy water is dripping down my legs.

I look up to Miley, who's smirking at me devilishly and has her own brown hair darkened and plastered all around her face. It whips around her like helicopter wings as she turns and takes about two steps hastily.

I slip my flip flops off quickly, and kick the still-gathering puddle water up at the back of her legs, soaking her shorts.

She turns around to me, mouth wide open, and when I go to walk towards her I step in the puddle, but my foot gets suctioned in.

"Damn, you didn't tell me this was quicksand! Help me, stingray!" I say through a cheesy smile as I'm stumbling over.

She catches onto my impediment, and I predict what she's about to do (shove me down), so when she steps forward with her arms extended forcefully, I grab on and tug her into me… and then we're falling backwards with a huge splash.

I guessed we would have a safe landing, but I feel something slam so hard into my lips I know my teeth cut into the inside of them.

And even through the pain, I somehow feel a pleasurable tingling sensation.

Miley hastily pushes herself up onto her elbow, a hand held to her own mouth and her cobalt eyes rivaling the clouds widened in shock.

"Did we—did we just…" I trail off. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Miley gets to her knees, one between mine and the other outside of mine, but her eyes are on me, and they're smiling even as they match the circumference of golf balls, before she moves her hand so I see her reddened lips are too. And then she's laughing. "How did that _happen_?!" she asks, and I'm wondering the same thing, and also noting happily she's not disgusted, or angry, or anything.

In fact, the smile in her lips and eyes falter, and she says lowly, "You're bleedin'…" and I inhale sharply as her hand glides gently through the air towards my face, and for a moment the sky is bleeding pink and orange and an ice cream cone is in Miley's other hand again, and she's doing that feather-light swiping motion with her thumb. I hate to ruin the natural innocence of this moment with my stupid hormones, but they're definitely set off to her fingers brushing oh so lightly along my lips.

Our first kiss is a complete and utter freak accident… but it is definitely a kiss.

-

**Ohmygod, anyone who read all that is my hero. The neverending chapter from hell. **

**So. Yeah:D I think this may be the last of pointless fluffy chapters with no true storyline in them whatsoever! Please though, don't hesitate to tell me how blahhh this is. I really feel like this story is going downhill… but I promise interesting things will start happening in the next chapters.**

**Which, ah, will not be up not as soon as this one wassss… ahah love you guys:D**


	8. No More

The sound of my hollow footsteps on wooden stairs slides into the background as I hear a muffled, upbeat acoustic melody. I reach the top of the steps and walk down the hallway, the music growing louder, and then I hear a raspy singing voice accompanying it.

I reach Miley's bedroom door, my destination, and I pause to listen to the music bleeding through it.

"…_And I hear your words that I made up_

_You say my name like there could be an us_

_I best tidy up my head, I'm the only one in love_

_I'm the only one in love"_

I know Miley has a gorgeous singing voice, she uses it softly while she's walking beside me and there's nothing to be said, and loudly while she's in her shower and I read a magazine or watch TV on her bed. It's gravelly, with a southern twang, and of course it's beautiful.

But for some reason, while I twist the door knob cautiously and try to exert as little weight as possible on my feet, it sounds like it has a little extra something trickling through.

Only the back of her head is visible, as I watch her nod to the beat, and the music is actually pretty loud now that I'm in the room. Her brown hair is tied into a floppy bun and it bobs up and down as her arm strikes the guitar strings I can't see.

"_Why do you steal my hand_

_Whenever I'm standin' my own ground?_

_You build me up and leave me there"_

Miley seems to know the song by heart or something. I have no idea what it is, maybe she wrote it. She plays flawlessly, even though I can't tell if she's making mistakes or not.

"_I hear your words you made up_

_I say your name like there should be an us_

_I best tidy up my head, I'm the only one in love_"

'And I hear your words that I made up, you say my name like there could be an us, I best tidy up my head, _I'm the only one in love_…' I wonder if this song means anything to her…

Maybe, explaining her feelings about a certain blonde girl that really can't stop thinking about her. It would sound weird to me one month ago, hoping another girl is singing a song about unrequited love towards _me_, but now the thought snakes through my subconscious without warning, or, care.

The strumming of her guitar softens, and she sings the last line like a quiet afterthought,

'…_I'm the only one in love_'

And this convinces me her song means something.

She stands, and I take in her tiny waist and long, slender legs as quickly as I can, and as her eyes hit me and she processes my being, she springs back with wide eyes and a "Good Ch-Christ!"

I hold my hands up in some kind of surrender, her startled actions pulling it out of me, and "Sorry Miles, I didn't mean to freak you out! I just didn't wanna interrupt you, or like… anything," spills out. Lameee.

She calms down and takes a deep breath, and lifts her guitar over her head. In the process, her form-hugging t-shirt rides up and I am shown the rounding of her hip bones peeking out of her cotton shorts.

Everything inside of me tightens and speeds up, as expected.

"It's okay," she says, exhaling. "Don't worry about it," she mutters lowly.

Awkwardness jumps right on into the room as we both sit down on her bed, and she turns on the TV. "Batman Begins" is on.

After two moments, I say, "You sounded amazing." I look up to see her grin sheepishly, and my heart that is currently vacationing in the base of my throat just flutters in response.

"Thanks," she says quietly, and it comes out raspy, like some of her every other words do. I wonder why she has such a raspy voice.

But with the low, distant tone her voice has required, I know something's wrong. "Did you write it?" I wait for her to say yes.

"No, it's called Melt My Heart to Stone, by Adele."

Of course. A wave of stupidity, and for some reason, slight hurt, crashes down on me.

"Oh… it's a good song."

"Mhm."

I consider telling her now. I'm beginning to form the words in my head…

I take a big breath, and…"Do you have anything to eat?"

Okay, not quite what I had planned…

"Uh… sure…" she seems thrown off by that breath.

She leads me downstairs, but I barely see where I'm going, I'm so consumed with my thoughts. That was too weird. Is it possible she was just singing with me in mind? Is there anyone else? She does go to a boarding school. I've never asked about Miley's love life.

Miley's kitchen cabinets are made of a dark brown wood, and the daylight coming through the window makes the kitchen look all old-fashioned and woodsy. I like it. Its soothing.

"Miley?" I begin slowly once Miley pulls out some tortilla chips and salsa.

"No."

"Huh? You didn't even hear my question?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

I smile stupidly, at how she knows me so well. But after that ridiculous kiss in her backyard a few days ago, this equally ridiculous wall has spurred inside of me, one that constantly warns me not to let Miley know.

So, I (unsuccessfully) wipe the smile off my face and say, "I was actually going to ask where your glasses are, but thanks for the memo."

Miley tips her head with an "Ah," then strides over to her cabinets and gets out two glasses in which she pours us iced tea.

Miley doesn't like me. I tell myself many times a day. Too many times.

But the more I tell myself, the more I realize I shouldn't have to _convince_ myself if I knew it weren't true.

-

"Dani-Dan!" Miley coos. "Whatchyou doin' girl? Whatcha doin'?"

I'm not trying to destroy the blissful innocence of this moment, seriously, it's so sweet I think I feel my teeth tingling, but Miley is leaning over to get eye level with my baby cousin seated on my lap, and the view straight down her teal colored v-neck is turning my brain to mush.

I still get a little freaked out at how attracted I am to Miley. It's not… It's not _normal_! I'm aware I prefer girls, plenty of sleepless nights contributing to that conclusion, but is this just how it is to have a crush on one? Is this how guys feel about girls? Do girls get this hot over guys? God, if this is how obsessed a crush is making me, I'm not sure if I want to see the day I fall in love…

Girls have so much more… Curves… Soft, tan skin… Big cobalt eyes… pouty, shiny lips, soft, silky hair that smells like concentrate vanilla, pretty singing voices, legs for _days_—

"OW!" My freakish, intense gaze on Miley's cleavage is broken as I frantically try to unwrap the grip of Danielle's hand on my hair. I finally succeed and lift Dani up and plop her onto Miley's lap, running my fingers through the tangled strands. My scalp throbs and stings.

"Ar--Are y'okay?" Miley asks between giggles.

I prop my feet up on the footrest and lay my head back on the couch. My throat is stretched and exposed uncomfortably, but I ignore it. "Just peachy." I grab for the remote and begin to channel surf, eyes aimed at my aunt and uncles' huge TV I've grown to know and love every inch of, but truly focused on Miley.

She's actually doing something _interesting_, as in, looking back at me, for once. Okay, not true, Miley looks at me a lot. Not as obsessively as I do her. Well, I think she's just one of those observant people. Yeah, that's it.

But what's there really to observe about me sitting on the couch?

I roll my head over towards her. My ears are set on prickly fire when she looks away bashfully, embarrassed I caught her. Shit, _I'm_ embarrassed I caught her. Strange how that works.

But I can't let Miley know that. "See something you like?"

"No, but I do see somethin' cocky an' arrogant."

"Huh? Kanye West's in the room?"

"Shut up, Lilly."

"Oof!" The weight is knocked out of me as Miley places my baby cousin back into my lap.

Miley gets up and walks away. Her butt sways side to side and, like a dog, I hop right up and follow her, my forearm under Dani's butt and her arms wound around my neck. She smells like baby oil.

My eyes follow Miley's butt as she goes over to the counter. I take a sideways seat in one of the chairs across from the booth in the kitchen, for once. Dani slides down to my legs.

I rest my chin on the top of the chair's back and watch Miley pour herself some lemonade. Her shirt is ridden up in the back and I can see the tiniest sliver of her tan skin. Delightful butterflies stir around in my stomach. I realize how horny I actually am, followed shortly by extreme guilt seeing as to how there's a two year old in my lap. Ugh, I'm horrible…

Miley comes over and sits in the chair at the head of the table, beside me. I feel my eyes widen. Her entire face is hot pink.

I want to ask, _why_, but I just find staring at the table a little more interesting. That'd be kind of awkward.

But seriously, why _is_ she blushing?

My eyes are all narrowed and my brow is tightened to the point of a headache, as I watch Miley.

Me… on the couch… with my head tilted back… and my entire _neck_ exposed. I mean, it's a slightly lascivious position…

No.

No way.

Miley's eyes slide up over the glass as she takes a generous gulp, widened very similarly to a deer in headlights, and aimed directly into mine, before shooting back down.

Now it's kind of awkward. And as uncomfortable as I now am, fidgeting to somehow dismiss a bit of the dampness appearing between me and the seat, I'm _ecstatic. _

So… so does she—

"Hey, guys," Carly's voice wafts into the room and into my head. I didn't even hear the back door open. I turn my head to see her and Chris enter the kitchen. Chris's eyes widen momentarily when they land on Miley.

I feel terrible every time I see that stupid kid. The guiltiness I already feel for indulging in my feelings for Miley the way I do triples whenever he walks into a room. He really does talk about her in his sleep sometimes. Carly teases him at least every other day about Miley.

And also… he has more of a chance of being with Miley, even despite the age difference, than I ever will. As far as I know, Miley's not into girls, but this little episode may prove me wrong.

_Don't get your hopes up Truscott. Just don't._

"Hey," Miley responds meekly.

"What are you guys up to?" I ask. I sift through Dani's blonde locks, naturally curled at the bottom near her tiny shoulders. Babies are so fascinating. They're like tiny people. Baby humans.

"Grabbing the macaroni salad… Are you guys coming back outside?"

It's the fourth of July. Aunt Tiff and Uncle Dean have practically the entire town and some of our family in the backyard, along with a moon bounce and a tent and what not. Later we're all going to see fireworks at the public school a bit into town. Miley doesn't want to go. I understand, the girls that messed with her when she was younger may be there. It would be best if we didn't go. They better pray to god they don't have to run into me. Or my fist.

"Yeah, Dani just woke up." I bounce her on my lap.

Miley puts her emptied glass down and pokes Dani in the tummy. Dani giggles, all high-pitched and childish and whatnot. It's adorable.

And then I see the smile back on Miley's face and it's gorgeous.

Curiously, I look over at Chris. His eyes are already on me, though, and just like they did moments ago on the couch, my ears heat up.

_Please don't hate me…_

_Oh, what the hell am I talking about; he doesn't know crack-shit._

I stand up with Dani in my arms and Chris leads us outside, holding the bowl of macaroni salad in one hand.

"Lillian!" cries a shrill, scratchy voice when I'm a few steps onto the deck. "Get that cute butt over here!"

I cringe.

It's Grandma.

Carly, Miley, and even Chris laugh. I _hate_ my name.

"Miley Ray, get on over here and meet Ms. Tiff's mother," Miley's Mamaw calls out. Now I chuckle as Miley scoffs.

I look over to where everyone on the deck is seated. Everyone's eyes are on me.

Grandma is skin and bones, with short white hair and crystalline blue eyes exactly like my mom's and mine. She dresses extremely fashionably, which probably explains where my mom and Aunt Tiff's adoration for clothing comes from. She's wearing a navy blue sleeveless top with ruffles down the chest and a silver necklace with a ruby stone sitting on her wrinkled, tanned chest.

"Lillian, oh my" Grandma says as I lean over to hug her where she sits between my mom and Aunt Tiff. When I pull back she says, loudly, "Did I say cute? I meant gorgeous! Would you—would you _look_ at her?" She turns her head every which way to gather everyone's attention. Miley's Mamaw is nodding in agreement. I met her earlier, she's very sweet, very tough love, and very wise.

Why does everyone do this. Make such a big deal about my looks. I'm not _that_ great. I swear, it's these old people being too proud of their offspring…

"Hello to you, too, Grandma," I say, and everyone chuckles. I'm standing awkwardly at the edge of the table, rocking back and forth on my heels with my arms crossed. People are beginning to go back to talking amongst themselves, but my family's attention is still on me.

"Dean, be a dear and get Lillian," I cringe, "a chair."

Minutes later Miley, Carly, Chris, and I are all crammed at the end of the table, mom, Aunt Tiff, and Grandma around the corner to my right. Miley's parents and her Mamaw sit to my left.

"Lillian, I really cannot get over how much you've _grown_," Grandma gushes, and I know exactly what's coming next. I grip a bar of the fold-up table so hard my shaking knuckles turn white. "The last time I saw you, you were a sure B-cup!"

Everyone's heads swivel to look at my boobs. Thanks Grandma, thank you.

"Yes, Grandma, I still am," I say through clenched teeth. I don't mean to sound to maniac, but….

"No!" Grandma says, in that elderly tone of voice that makes me _swear_ she's mocking me.

Please, kill me now. _Please_.

"Yes," I hiss.

Something taps my right shin underneath the table. I look up into my mom's face to see her eyes widen warningly at me. I resist the urge to roll my own eyes.

"So, Grandma, how've you been doing?" I say a little too sweetly. I hear Miley snicker from beside me. Chris is on her other side, and for some reason it only irritates me further.

"Oh, I'm good, I'm just fine… how are you? I miss you every day, with all my heart, Lillian. You know that?"

I hear Miley make an odd squeaky, "Awww!" under her breath beside me. I hate when she does things under her breath, especially when we're in front of my Grandma. It just _does_ things to me. That whole awkward thing back in the kitchen comes to mind, but I suppress it. I don't need to be playing Nancy Drew in my head while trying to get this greeting with Grandma over with.

"Yes, I know, I miss you too," I say earnestly. I half mean it. Okay, more than half, I'm not that heartless.

"I'm glad to hear it, dear-y. I brought you something," Grandma says sweetly.

I wait patiently as my Grandma fishes through a huge, white leather Gucci bag my jaw nearly drops at. Yes, she's one of _those_ Grandma's.

She pulls out a rectangular box and places it on the table in front of her, as well as a pack of Peach rings and a box of Godiva chocolates.

My face draws into a comical frown, and an appreciative nod. I don't care about the box, it's probably something too flashy for me, anyways. But my favorite candies landing on the table are impressive enough.

Grandma lifts a shaky hand and pushes it towards me. "Now, Lillian," I cringe yet again, "since I missed your sixteenth birthday, I wanted to make it up to you with this…"

I'm still convinced it's going to be atrocious, but when I open the long box I see a thick metal chain, with a T-clasp and a flat, silver heart with "PLEASE RETURN TO TIFFANY & CO NEW YORK," engraved on it.

It's _adorable._ Not Dani giggle adorable, or Miley smile adorable, but just as good. I go to thank her but she slides another box over. My mother turns her head to Grandma with an odd look on her face. It's a suede, black ring box. I open it to find a ring with three diamonds, small, big, small, embedded in it.

"White gold," Grandma informs me.

I can't keep the gracious grin from my face. My mom can't keep a certain look from her own face, one that makes Grandma say "oh, hush," to her lowly. I stand up and give Grandma another hug. "Thank you," I say to her, but it comes out a little softer than I meant it to.

"No need, Lillian, anything for my gorgeous granddaughter."

I feel a tad guilty for how I acted. I think I'm just a little stunned.

I slip the ring on my right ring finger. It's gorgeous. I feel like I'm engaged. My thoughts are brought back to Miley, who I turn to and find her staring at the ring.

Her eyes meet mine. Today they're blue-green. "It's really pretty," she says.

It is. But not as pretty as her.

_God_, did I _really_ just think that?

…Did I really mean it?

I lift the necklace from the box. Everyone is watching me bejewel myself.

Miley's fingers are suddenly brushing mine as she takes it from my hands, and she sweeps my hair to my shoulder. I involuntarily shiver when her fingertips skim along my neck. God _damn. _Her fingers tickles as she fits the T through the clasp, making me jerk embarrassingly. Please, God, let no one have noticed that….

We eat and talk some more. I stare at my ring throughout dinner. Everyone does.

"Come on," Miley says in my ear as I'm on my last bite of hot dog. Her low, breathy voice all over my sensitive ear almost makes me choke on my food. She tugs at my wrist.

I stand up. She slips her hand into mine and grips. It makes me grin goofily.

But then I realize Miley's just a friend, just a girl, who likes guys… right?

I need to know for sure. Guessing is killing me.

I stare at her dainty, sharp knuckles, the slim back of her hand cupped by mine, and my eyes travel up her skinny arm and tiny waist.

I want her.

I'm not quite sure _how…_ whether underneath me on Aunt Tiff and Uncle Dean's guest bed, like in my dreams (literally), or leading me everywhere with our hands clasping each other's. But I realize, in a dizzying moment that occurs like a light switch being flicked on, that I'm sure I want her.

Miley's hand slips from mine and the warm air, cool compared to her slightly moist palm, slips in to take its place. The feeling actually saddens me.

She sits on the emerald green hammock, weighing it all down under her. She pats next to her, and I sit, too. The deck seems kind of far away as we sit all secluded from the party. The voices are loud, though. I hear Uncle Dean's gruff southern twang and Mr. Stewart's laugh.

Miley maneuvers herself around so she's laying. I do the same, then reach over and push us off. The hammock makes me slide into her and the entire right half of my body is on blissful fire. Sparks ignite in my abdomen, tingling. As of late, it doesn't get much better than this, and I am way more than okay with that.

Still… I want her. I feel like I'm being greedy. Miley's a gift, to me, I realize. And I still want more.

I feel things between my legs tingle a slight bit, when she goes to hold my hand again. I look down and watch her fingers skim along the back of my hand, but the feeling… that tingling turns into a _lot_. My heart beats in slow motion, the blood has been replaced with molasses.

She presses her fingertips into my palm, and lifts my hand up. I turn my head to see her clear blue eyes aimed at my ring. Miley's other arm is cocked up beside her head, palm under her sea of brown hair that tickles my cheek. My heart flutters, just from her touch. This is so stupid. These feelings. Over these stupid things stupid Miley does.

I look over to the grass, or at the deck, I don't know. Because I don't really even look. I'm still looking at Miley from the corner of my eye.

Ridiculous. I'm ridicul—

"So, I noticed your Grandma's loaded," she says in this husky, drowsy voice that makes my hips kind of… budge.

My cheeks are aflame. She had to have noticed that. _Shit_. "Oh, erm, yeah."

Miley bends her knee and sets my hand on her thigh. The hand is burning. And sweaty. And mortifying.

She takes her thumb and index finger and begins to spin my ring around on my finger.

Her eyes are on mine when I turn to silently ask what exactly she thinks she's doing. She stares, with that calm, cool stare that drives me absolutely _nuts_.

"My grand father passed away," my voice is almost a whisper. "He owned a chain restaurant since 1937. So she inherited all his money."

"I'm sorry," Miley rasps, nearly inaudibly.

I just look at her. I don't say anything. My eyes jump from her eyes to her nose to her lips to her hairline. We're so close, I can see the individual hairs sprouting from her scalp. I can't see her pores, like in the kissing dreams. But I can see the flecks of green in her eyes… I can see me in the glassy reflection of them. I can see the pink sky behind my head. Another sunset.

I scan further down her face. I see the freckles on her nose. And I… I'm already sweating by the time her lips are in sight. But the way they're parted so I can see her pearly white teeth behind them makes me even hotter…

Her bubblegum tongue darts out and sweeps over the bottom one, then it pouts right back out, now all shiny, and my breath quickens. Blood pools in my bladder, I feel things clench tightly, I feel the voices of the party drown out to the blood rushing over my ear drums.

Is… is she watching this?

I look back up to her eyes. They're already into mine. Maybe that's why I'm sweating. A perfect eyebrow is lowered, making a crease in her forehead I just ache to somehow smooth out with my thumb no matter how cute it is. I don't want her to be confused.

Why can't she just understand?

I'm glancing between her eyes and her lips.

I'm going to do it.

_You miss 100% of the shots you don't take…_

I'm scooting closer. I'm scared as hell. I'm terrified. Because she still has her eyebrow dipped sexily but disagreeably.

But I have to do this. I want her. I want her, and I have to know, no more guessing, and no more yearning.

I quickly lift my head and look over my shoulder to see if anyone's coming.

By the time I look back, Miley's face is towards the sky, eyes flicking over the clouds, and _shit_.

The chance and beat of confidence slipped through me like sand through my fingers. My back hits the hammock with a sigh.

She has to know what I was about to make happen. Oh, what are you _thinking_, Miley…

"D' y'all wanna come see fireworks at the school?" Brooke asks. Taylor and Carly and Chris and Lane and Max are behind her. They're all looking at me and Miley. Could they have seen....? No… no, I didn't see them a few seconds ago.

"Yeah, we'll catch up in a few minutes."

"Okay," and they all trek back over to the deck.

I look over to Miley. I suddenly hate the way her arm and leg feels pressed up against mine.

She just looks up at the sky, it makes her glow in hot pink and I hate how weak my insides suddenly feel.

I just hate how I didn't get that kiss.

The majority of people on the deck file into the house, and then I hear them in the distance, in front of the house, as I stare up at purple and hot pink.

The hammock begins to rock and Miley's elbow comes into my view.

"C'mon," She says, getting unsteadily out of the hammock, leaving me to weigh it down myself.

"You wanna go?"

"Not to the school."

"Oh… then… where?"

"Just come on."

She heads towards the woods. I watch her hips sway, like I did in the house and every other time we've hung out and walked around somewhere. I want to punch myself in the stomach for liking it so much, but I follow her anyway.

-

"Okay, why are we here?" I feel pretty foolish admitting this, but the creek looked kind of magical, like something out of a Disney movie, with the fireflies soaring above the water's inky surface, cutting through the dusky sky, leaving glowing ribbon trails. The sun has set by now. Frogs are ribbiting and plopping in and out of the water. Crickets and other nightly bugs screech in the background. Its nature and its imperfect and nearly breathtaking.

But what actually did take my breath away was the mischievous grin on Miley's face that I have grown to know and love. I know pretty well how this attraction works, but the side affects often catch me by surprise; kind of this lack of air that makes me lightheaded, instantly, in a good way. The best way.

"To swim"

"But I don't have a…a…"

I'm lost in the sight of Miley gripping the hem of her hot pink tank top and inversing it over her head.

In almost slow motion her hips appear, and then the shallow canyon of muscle running up the center of her midriff, and finally her ribs arched out—and I have to look away to the wheatgrass swaying lightly in the night breeze. Then I hear her unzip her shorts and hear the light thud of them falling to the ground. I look behind her and see the very sands I chased Miley to get her to tell me her middle name. Strange how, here I am now, looking back at a place I once was. Strange how much has happened between that day and this one. Well, not much, seeing as to how it was not even a month ago, but still.

My thoughts run amuck through the lazy summer night; but there's one that sticks out vividly from the rest; _God, I wish I was hearing those shorts make that sound for a different situation…_

I'm still a little embarrassed at my failed kiss attempt on the hammock, but I can always try again. I'm taken aback at how angry I was at Miley, in my head, how frustrated… whatever, it's over.

Miley sits and lowers herself into the water from the dock. We usually just walk in from the bank, but we took a different path that spouted from my aunt and uncle's backyard that led us to the dock a little over to the right of it, wheatgrass between. I hear her dunk under, and search for where she will resurface.

She's across from where I stand. She can't see me; her eyes are closed as she shoots back up. All of her hair is plastered behind her. Her entire chest is wet, and the fact that she's wearing a seductive violet colored v-cut bra and not her cute tie-dye halter bikini top does something to me. I feel it shoot up my torso, and butterflies in my stomach like smoky air after a building collapses. What the human body is capable of…

Her eyes flicker open, she blinks hard, squeezes them shut and wipes excess creek water from them. "Come on, Queenie," she says in this voice that makes her sound seductive and womanly and daring and childish all at once, "Do or die." And it sends another bolt of god knows what through every centimeter of my axial structure.

I gulp, hopefully low enough that she didn't hear, and pull my arms inside my shirt and lift it over my head. Christ, did I really have to wear this bra… I look down to see the orange backdrop and multicolored stars I dawned my chest with this morning, as if to double check it hadn't magically changed despite the lack of proximity to my underwear drawer I've had since this morning—Miley's eyes are on me.

My skin flashes so cold it's hot, or so hot it's cold, and then bashfulness floods me. I glance bravely into her eyes. They're not aimed into mine. They're watching all that exists below my eyes, impatiently, but… intensely.

And I feel weird stripping in front of Miley. Did she plan this? Does she know what I'm feeling? Is she feeling it this too, like she may have been before dinner?

Clothes hide a lot. They hide what I've truly been given in this human life, the true shape _I_ take, no more, no less.

I'm being stupid; she's seen just as much of me in a bathing suit. At least we're not skinny dipping or something.

And Miley's just a girl, I go on in my head as I hop from the dock into the water with a slight splash and my feet sink slightly into the gooey sand floor, why should I feel so embarrassed? Girls all have the same thing… and yet… all in different packages. I realize that I'm self-conscious when it comes to showing Miley mine…. Because she may not like it. Despite she, y'know, looks, is looking, and I also seem to do that.

But the question still is… does she feel what I feel?

I feel clumsy and generally unattractive as I join Miley. I feel a little weird going into the dark water in thin underwear. The way she watches me makes me feel high, absolutely high. Her eyes are on me. Me, of all people.

God, what does she _think_…

I'm standing next to her, looking out at the water in front of me, but my vision is pretty much blurred because I'm so lightheaded from being right next to her and having her in the corner of my eye.

"Look," she says softly.

If before she made my breath leak from me, she is now reaching into me and rapidly grabbing handfuls of oxygen from my lungs. Her face is illuminated by dull orange from the fireflies that float around through the inky black. They make her cobalt eyes look teary and _Christ_ do I want nothing more than to kiss those lips…

A long arm is erected towards the wheat grass. Water droplets fall from it. I don't even follow where Miley's pointing. I wonder where else water trails down, and glance at the cup of her sexy bra, (okay, maybe it's a slightly elongated glance, maybe like a stare), and then I'm studying her hip facing me. It's coated in a layer of quickly dissipating creek water that glimmers somewhat in the fireflies' light. And, as I predicted, droplets make their short paths back down into the water and I wonder if she'd even mind if I bent over and followed them with my tongue...

_God_, what am I _saying_?! I sound like Oliver! I feel like such a dirty old man right now… this is exactly what I detest about men, and I'm doing it. Miley must feel how I feel whenever I go surfing with some guy and I take off my wetsuit when we're done and he just stares.

I stare guiltily across the creek and try to ignore my heart pounding and the throbbing going on in the area right where the water comes up to.

"I personally find this better'an fireworks …" Miley says, still in that low tone, as if talking at normal volume would scare the frogs and dragonflies away.

"I agree." The fireflies glowing ribbons mesmerize me a bit.

With her wavy, seemingly wind tossed hair, and still that god damn bra, I can't rip my eyes from her.

"Cute bra," she snickers. I watch her lowered eyes flicker all over my chest.

Come _on_. Seriously, though? If she didn't like me the way I liked her, she wouldn't be gazing at my chest.

She has to.

_But what if she doesn't?_

She does.

_But how could you make sure?_

Miley's done with 'observing my cute bra', and is now looking into my eyes. There's something about looking into those things… making eye contact with a person comes with this feeling, kind of like we're all each other can see for the length of it, and all of our attention is given to each other. But when it's with Miley, when it's at times like these when it's not a quick glance during a conversation on a sunny day, but at night, in the creek, in this romantic atmosphere that can't be shaken off…

This is more than a crush.

She squeaks and jumps in my one hand on the rounding of her shoulder when I surge forward and press my lips to her cheek. One Mississippi… her cheek is impossibly soft… two Mississippi… impossibly smooth…. I pull away.

Her eyes are kind of widened. Her fingers flex in the water. Her arm that she was pointing with is now extended towards one of the wide, wooden posts supporting the dock that the water sloshes against. Her hand grips it for dear life.

Suddenly it seems like she's taken a safety pin to my heart and it is now deflating into my cracking ribcage. She looks to the side, eyes still large and jumping anywhere but me on the creek's surface. "What was that for…?" she mumbles in a tone of complete awe.

"Um…" I don't know what to say. This is horribly awkward. So awkward it nearly hurts. But that's her disliking my kiss's job. Making me hurt. "Just for bringing me here…" my voice wants to crack. I feel hot tears behind my eyes, and that sore lump in my throat I hate with everything in me.

My fingers drop from her shoulder, fall to the water's surface with a tiny splash. She's up close, just how I like her to be. I don't know why she hasn't made a distance from me yet. I study her face and she studies the water beside me, with wide, bewildered eyes.

'_No matter what, you had to go through the injury to get to where you are now, as a kickass skater. You know that poster in Mr. Merrick's class, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take…'_

I feel paralyzed. I want to reach up, put my now wet palm up on Miley's cheek, and make her look at me instead of the stupid water, but I just can't.

From my hips inwards clenches nervously. It's a feeling I never felt until I came to Tennessee. My heart flutters high and fearfully.

I lift my hand, just a tad, out of the water. I'm almost surprised because it seemed like it would weigh a ton. It seemed like a force was holding it down, but it lifts through the air with ease.

Miley watches my hand intently. Slowly. Her breathing is slightly heavy, and quick. As if she's scared. I don't want to scare her.

Suddenly, she snatches it in midair. I feel her hand enclosed around mine before I see it. I feel like a freeze ray blasted me still. Now my entire body feels stifled, paralyzed, instead of just my arm.

She's looking at me, shocked that she, for some reason, grabbed my hand. Her cheeks kind of puff out and she's breathing like she's just ran a race. It tickles my nose… and my lips… and…

My lips are parted and kind of close on Miley's when we touch. Miley's lips are soft on mine, tense, but soft. That's the first thing I notice. She's stiff as a board. I press my lips harder, and feel her hard teeth behind them.

So this is what they're like… Fireworks, that is, as cliché as they may be. They're real. _God_, they're good…. Far beyond good. Far beyond perfect. Far beyond anything I've ever imagined or felt. My entire body tingles, every nerve, every atom of me is exploding, my teeth tingle, my lips tingle, when all my muscles clench simultaneously it just pumps this sweet sensation all through me…

Her hand falls from mine, and hit the water's surface with a 'plop'. I curl my hand into me, still in the air, awkwardly.

At first it was like… going under water before you're ready. Like a shock to my system. And now I'm just prickled with waves of electricity. All my previous kisses, with boys, as nervous as I was, the nerves kind of died out once our lips were pressed together. It was just lip-to-lip contact. No more.

This kiss with Miley feels like soul-to-soul contact. That sounds corny, but—

It's gone. It left. Miley has jerked away from me.

My eyes flutter open. My fingers swish through water as my arm falls limp.

Miley is out of breath. The kiss couldn't have been _that_ long…

She's just staring at me, breathing heavily, eyes jumping all over my face. Looking scared. Shocked. Completely confused.

"W…" I speak. I had no words planned to say.

My eyes attach onto one of the fireflies floating behind Miley.

"Lilly…" she says in a tone of voice that good words I want to hear can't possibly follow. I stare extremely hard at the fireflies. They begin to blur. My eyes begin to water… with tears.

I never want to hear her say my name like that ever again. I wade past her, through the water.

I never want to hear her say _anything_ ever again.

I was so certain this would go right, I climb the little ladder falling from the edge of the dock, that I didn't picture how badly it would hurt if I actually tried to kiss Miley. If I actually ruined things. I was so caught up in how brilliant my life would be if Miley and I could just live happily ever after that I didn't _really_ think of how much it could possibly hurt me, how it'd really feel, if we _couldn't _just live happily ever after.

I'm yanking up my shorts. I hear water trickle, again. Miley clears her throat and tears are now falling down my cheeks as I face the woods, away from her.

"It's—" her voice rasps from behind me with phlegm and she clears her throat, "it's against my religion." Her voice is still just as raspy.

"I…" I choke out a sob and the lump in my throat is painful. I feel physical pain, let alone mental, over this. "S-sorry…"

What am I supposed to say? Love me anyway? It doesn't seem like she even does… she's probably just saying that to let me down easy. Then again, I really didn't think of all the crosses hung around Miley's house… in her room… around her neck…

I slip my shirt over my head, and step forward when I hear wood thudding as Miley climbs onto the dock.

And then I snap.

"Okay, NO!" I wheel around to face Miley. Her features jump in shock. Tears stream down my face, I swipe my leaking nose. "You… you…. You led me on, you asshole! Why the hell _else_ would you give me the looks? And the song?! The flirting, unless you're j-just… Why would you bring me here?! H… How could you…."

I fall to my knees, or more expertly, my shins. Skateboarding taught me to land on them.

The color of Miley's skin blurs from tears with the dark navy all around us as I peek between my fingers. I rarely cry, let alone like this. I'm choking on sobs. It's pathetic. I should get up and run. I don't want Miley to see me like this.

I can't believe I just said all of that… all of those unmentionable moments I meant to keep to myself… I feel like I've committed a crime or something.

"Well?!" I scream, muffled by my hands. "_Say_ something, Miley!" I spit her name with a venom I didn't know I had in me. This is one of those times where I'm a little surprised and ashamed of how I'm acting, kind of like when I beg my mom for new stuff, but I don't stop. In this case, I most literally _can't_.

"Look," Miley says in a moody huff, and crouches down on one knee. "You're pretty, Lilly, and—"

"Oh, save it," I slap the hand she rests on my shoulder away.

"Let me finish!"

I look up into her with what I know is a scowl planted on my face. She rears back a little, probably at the way my face looks after crying…

"And I _do_…"

She trails off and her eyes trail after, off my face, beside where I'm kneeling.

"You do what?" I ask in a whisper. My throat actually kind of burns a little from shouting.

"I do…" she swallows, "like you…"

I just glare at her.

"Wow, that feels weird t' say out loud…" She adds, looking down in front of her. "Please don't cry…"

"Were you singing about me?"

"What?"

"The Stone Heart Song?"

"Yes. Even though I think its "Melt My Heart To Stone". You were in my head… you're always in my head." She sighs. Takes a hearty breath. "I didn't expect this to happen. At first I was so confused… I had _no _idea what was goin' on. You're smart… funny…. athletic… _Gorgeous_, god, Lilly, I don' even think y' know…" she seems to scoff out a breath, "but I… then it started changing. I've liked boys before. Eventually… 'specially at this age… _other_ feelings kick in, and I realized this ain't goin' away any time soon…"

I smile at Miley's feet. She heaves a sigh. My smile is gone. More bad things to hear.

"But… I need it to, Lilly…" she says softly.

More tears leak from my face. I feel her wipe them away with her thumb, her other fingers cupping my cheek, almost tickling my ear. I reach up and wrap my fingers around her wrist; she stares hard into my eyes.

"You only get one chance at life," I tell her. I see tears fall down her cheeks, and it knocks the wind out of me. I hate this. A lot. "I don't know where we go after it, or what happens if we don't spend it 'right' according to what some book says, but… I do know that while I'm _surely_ gonna be here, I want to be happy. And I want you to be happy. And if being with me would make you happy…"

"No Lilly," she continues in that soft voice. "I can't."

"You _can_. You just _think_ you can't."

"No, Lilly!" She spits, "Don't you _get it_? All my life I promised _not_ to give into anything like this! I was born and raised not to! I don't even know how the hell it happened, but I do know, it can'tanymore…"

"Wait… wha—"

"Lilly, we can't be friends anymore."

Miley stands, walks past me.

I have so much more to say! Turn around! Come back!

"Don't do this Miley! You're making a mistake!" I shout after her.

I hear her crying. I hear her choke on sobs in her own voice just like I was moments ago. My face still feels all puffy. The lump still sits in my throat.

My heart is broken. So this is what it's like.

-

**Thank you guys SO much for you're amazing words. You're all really encouraging. What I'd really love is to get back you all, but I've been busy, so I'm really sorry.**

**Hahaha, so I don't think Miley can honestly match up to Adele, but they have a somewhat similar vocal range and a few other things, and I can picture her singing Adele, so I thought, what the hey.**

**I don't know how these get so angsty. STMH had more in it than I realized until someone said so in a review. This won't have **_**too **_**much. Btw, did anyone find this chapter a little… off? I feel like its so choppy. Do you feel like something's missing? Don't hesitate to share your thoughts.**

**Anyway. I wanted to ask… would a sex scene ruin this story? I mean, with the way its going, obviously one would come up. Okay, maybe not after this chapter, I mean Miley and Lilly may never talk to each other ever again;) Unless I'm that bad of a writer and the sexual tension isn't killing any of you, like it is me, and I'm **_**writing**_** it… What do you guys think? Peacee.**

**Oh, P.S.: Sorry for being a whiny prick about my writing sometimes, I get SO self conscious about it. Buuuut I'll stop thinking that way and think of you guys and you're positive reinforcements instead(: Bye!**

**I don't own "Melt My Heart To Stone" by Adele. **


	9. Chase This Light

I don't realize I'm snickering to myself until I find Max staring at me quizzically.

"What?" I snap.

"Nothing."

I never felt more hurt in my life than after what Miley did to me at the creek that night. Miley introduced me to a lot of feelings I never knew existed.

-

"Lilly, _what_ is the matter with you?" my father asks. The breakfast chatter dies out. Everyone looks at me with concerned eyes. It feels like that's the only kind that's been aimed at me for the past two days, and this morning.

"Nothing. It's just my time of the month," I say in a droning voice.

"Time for what?" Lane inquires.

My dad goes back to his pancakes.

"Um, her time, to, um…" Aunt Tiff stutters.

"It's time for me to get new shampoo and conditioner. I try a new one every month and get so used to them, I hate to give them up."

"Oh."

And everyone resumes eating.

Two nights have passed since the Fourth of July, and I've never felt a pain like this. My chest feels clogged and crushed and my eyes constantly sting with tears. It _hurts_.

It wasn't supposed to go this way…

It's safe to say I haven't heard from Miley. That alone I never expected would drive me so crazy. I remember how a few weeks ago, before we became casual friends, before the feelings really surfaced, I was practically praying for her to show up. Which she did. But, still, waiting killed me.

Now I have no more to wait for; no more texts, or calls, or invitations to hang out. No more of the sound of Miley's voice, no more of the softness of Miley's skin, or the infectious raspiness of her laugh. No more senseless banter. No more happy butterflies or, or...

"I'll be in the shower."

"Lilly, you didn't even finish one pancake."

"I'm not hungry." My skin tingles coolly with everyone's eyes on it as I get up, shove my half-pancake into the trash, and get to the stairs before any tears fall.

-

My hair is wet, and I catch the faint scent of cucumber I think is stuck on me as I flop down on the bed that isn't really mine. I think momentarily how even though it's not my bed, I've spent more sleepless nights on it than the one back home.

_God, _I hate this. I feel like I'll never get over it. I feel like I didn't get a fair chance.

Stupid Christian upbringing. Well, no, I shouldn't say that. I'm not any kind of prejudice, this whole catastrophe is no reason to change that.

Stupid Miley. She's not even that pretty. And she's stupid. Obviously. She's a stupid tease.

My stomach churns angrily. That wall, I should have paid attention to it. The one I had in me after she was singing that stupid song. Why the hell would she pick up that guitar and sing it when she knew I was on my way over anyway? To make me even more sick and curious and insane?

Miley's just a bad disease. Was a bad disease.

That wall… my body knew I liked Miley before I did, and it knew telling her would be dangerous before I went and did it. Is it like that for everyone? A sixth sense kind of thing?

Whatever. I don't care. Because now my body's telling me Miley's a lost cause and she's not even that great. 

And the little voice in the back of my head informs me how all of those are lies but I don't do anything about it.

I look at my phone that lays a few inches from my hip on the bed.

Maybe… maybe Miley and I could still be friends? Maybe she just said that because she was in the heat of the moment.

I should text her. I just… I need to make sure.

Besides, it couldn't get much worse than this.

I open up my contacts but suddenly the phone buzzes in my hand. I see Oliver's name and a picture of a ringing phone on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Lilly, how's it going?" Oliver sounds like he's drooling sunshine compared to my robotic drone.

I sigh. "Not… well.."

"Why? What happened?" You'd think I just told him his dog ran across an expressway, with the way his entire mood just dropped in only his words.

"She… she hates me."

He's silent.

"Lil… I'm so sorry… I—I didn't know… What an idiot, who the hell could hate _you_?"

"It's not your fault. It's mine."

"Did she really say that? That she hates you?"

"No, she didn't. She just… she actually said she feels the same way. But obviously she doesn't because I'd give up _my_ religion for her… God, I think I'd rather have her hate me than have it be like this."

"Wow. Well, but, you aren't religious…"

"Well, but, I don't care," I mock. "I'd give up anything for her, Ollie."

"Even skating?"

"I pretty much have."

"Surfing?"

"If she wanted."

"Tickets to Radiohead?" Since they're my favorite.

"For free, if she wanted." And I mean it. The talent of Radiohead, as pleasant as it is to my ears, doesn't even chock up to my desire to please that girl.

Which I find horribly pathetic.

"Wow…_wow_."

"Yeah." I hate the way I sound. But I can't really help it. With how I feel inside, it's almost like I don't have the strength to put on a show like my heart's not broken.

"It was just a crush, Lil… she was the first girl, there'll be others. Probably better. More gorgeous, more fun, smarter…."

"Not religious."

"And not religious."

It's silent, but it's not awkward, because we're both just listening to our own thoughts.

Mine are of his words. _It was just a crush_. It doesn't sound right.

The familiar lump that's been visiting lately arrives in my throat, as well as its good friend, the stinging in the back of my eyes.

"No, it wasn't…" it comes out very quietly after a few moments. My voice is especially high.

"What?"

"It—it," The lump is practically gagging me, "it wasn't just a crush…"

"Lilly…"

I choke. And sob. Tears prickle and flood my eyes.

"Don't cry," Oliver suddenly grits. Commands.

"What?" It's so out of place, my tears seem to freeze themselves over.

"She's not worth tears, Lilly. How well could you know her in one month? Fucking bitch. She's lucky I don't fly over there and kick her ass myself, or get Amber to do it. No, I'll do it myself. No one plays games with you. Don't cry, you're stronger than that and we both know it."

I sniffle. I dab my cheeks on the quilt beneath me. "Okay… okay."

"Are you gonna be alright?"

"Eventually, yeah."

"I thought so."

We're both silent again. I look around the room and think offhandedly of how Oliver's probably looking around his own room, thousands of miles away and exactly where I want to be.

"I want to go home."

Oliver sighs and suddenly his voice is all growl-y like he's part-bear or something, the way it is when I wake him up sometimes. "You know what? If you ask your mom, she'll probably let you."

"Maybe… There are a few things I could try. Ugh, the past month was a huge waste of my life. I'm gonna ask Amber or Ashley if I can stay with them or something. I'll talk to you later…"

"Alright."

"And Oliver?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, love ya too. Feel better, okay? I really don't want a zombie for a best friend. We live in California for god's sake, you could find a cute girl in an instant. Maybe one that isn't a humongous moron."

I say "Yeah, you're right. Mucho gracias. Bye," but I don't believe him for a second. My heart has had as much as it can take for now.

-

"I don't know, Lilly, I can't bombard Ashley's parents like that… we're staying here until September first, two months is longer than you're thinking."

"They said its fine! You just talked to them! Come _on _mom, please?"

"…Miley really left for school already?"

"Yes, mom, she really did. Two days ago," I was lying straight through my teeth but obviously I was doing it well.

Mom sighed. "Alright, then. But you're spending at least two more days here and you're spending it with your cousins, aunt, and uncle, not on their couch taking advantage of the television."

"Okay. And look, don't tell any of them I'm only leaving because Miley's not here anymore. Or Max. He'll say something. " Can't have anyone putting two and two together.

"Alright, Lilly…"

I wrapped my arms around my mom and thanked her in a huffy sigh.

I walk away from my mom sitting at the kitchen table and plop onto the sofa in the living room. I think I can last forty-eight more hours in this place. It's like, although Miley's not here, I replay the Fourth of July and the past few weeks in my head constantly to the point where she practically is. My imagination is so strong, it knows her by heart and won't leave her alone.

I can't say I haven't been partially holding my breath for Miley to barge into my aunt and uncle's house and declare her undying love for me… then maybe tackle me onto the couch. My feelings for her aren't going to die in a day, nor will they die in two days. I'm obviously bringing my feelings for her back home with me.

The thing is, I'm not okay with that.

And I don't think I'll ever be until I do something about this.

-

We're the loudest table in the restaurant. It's fancy and expensive and dark and foreign. Well, the menus are, at least.

It's been four days since I've associated with Miley and I don't think I've ever experienced truly missing someone until now.

I liked Miley. A lot. Even when I'm not physically with her. Even though she lives some thousand miles away from where the flight I'm boarding tomorrow afternoon is heading to. And even though I only knew her for a god damn month. One month! Thirty friggin' days!

In fact, if this is what liking someone feels like, I don't think I've ever _liked_ anybody before. I liked her and I've missed her. Will miss her.

I chase my calamari around my gold-foil detailed dish. My brow is convoluted tensely and I don't realize it until I relax my face and head and brain.

I don't plan on telling any of my other friends besides Oliver about Miley. I don't plan on telling them I like girls until I find one worthy enough to chase, that's preferably not religious.

"What're you thinking about?" Brooke asks. Yes, she's eleven, but she's also very intuitive and brainy and stuff.

I sigh. "Y'know. Life."

"What about life?" She asks in a low mutter, with her elbow jutting out on the table and her head resting in her palm. Her hazel eyes, all the kids have hazel or brown eyes except baby Dani, who has blue ones, bore into me.

"About how… well, you always need to expect the unexpected, that's for one thing." She probably doesn't understand. I'm just talking to myself. It feels weird to be confirming these things out loud. Maybe talking to my eleven year old cousin could help.

"How do you do that?"

"Lower your expectations. Be happy with what you get, don't go asking for more." I pop a forkful of buttery angel hair into my mouth.

"Oh."

I turn away from her. No one seemed to have heard our conversation. Our parents are laughing and talking loudly over one another in recalling some old memory, Lane, Max, and Chris are talking about god knows what, Carly and Taylor are arguing, and the babies are smearing their food all over themselves and everything around them in a foot long radius.

"That sounds boring," Brooke says belatedly when I'm halfway through my hugely-portioned dinner.

"No one said life is exciting at every moment."

"But playing it safe isn't always a good thing."

I'm stunned. _Floored._ Not to be a jerk, but my eleven-year-old cousin contains more wisdom than Amber and Ashley combined. Seriously.

Because she's right. And she actually understands what I'm saying. Somehow.

"That's what I said…." I mutter.

"What? Sorry, I didn't hear."

"Um… I mean, disappointment hurts."

"Why are you so disappointed? Are you having a bad time here or something?" Brooke's brow is knotted in confusing and I just wish I could take my thumb and smooth it out. She doesn't know I'm leaving tomorrow and, of course, she doesn't know about Miley.

"No, no, not at all. I'm disappointed because… well, let's just say I didn't get something I really, really wanted."

"What was it?"

"It doesn't matter, okay?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Okay…" she agrees slowly.

I look around to find everyone still not looking in our general area at the corner of the table. "But, yeah. Don't forget that."

"I won't…." Brooke looks back to her food with no real expression on her face and I feel a smidge better that I somehow helped her on this strange journey we call life.

-

I can't sleep. I'm a little too busy contemplating my existence.

I realized those reoccurring dreams I've had about Miley could possibly relate to her religion preventing us from being… well, together or something. I could never get my lips to hers in the dreams, like trying to force two opposite ends of a magnet together. Real life, though, is more frustrating and depressing than any of the dreams.

I'm completely wired at how insane that is. How did my subconscious know Miley was unreachable where I never even expected the honest fact?

The sheet I sleep with is threaded between my legs. My pillow lies on my head, pinned between my arm and my ear. I sigh, frustrated. This is purgatory, I swear it is.

ZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! I stiffen and jolt in my lying position, startled. My phone buzzes more elongated than usually, cutting through the soft silence of 3:23 A.M. I snatch it from my wooden night table, and take a look at the window to see who's head I'm about to verbally tear off.

My eyelids nearly rip themselves open and my heart jumpstarts to life up in my throat.

_1 new Text Message from Miley:_

'_come outside? im done with & sorry for being an idiot..'_

I feel like I'm on fire and I begin to sweat and kick the sheet completely off of me.

I want to call her. I want to scream at her, shout at her, I want to yell, hell no I don't want to see you. I'm angry, and clammy, and chilly, and anxious.

And happy. And ecstatic. And satisfied. I _knew_ Fourth of July wasn't the end of Miley and me.

I don't want to scare Miley away, but I don't want to let her off easy. I text her back a '_k_' and decide instead of getting all dramatic and badass through text, I'll go outside and make her grovel at my feet. I'm glad she's sorted her feelings out, but I don't think Miley understands what she put _me_ through.

I throw on a tank top, jeans, and flip flops and step as quietly as I can down the hall and staircase. I unlock the sliding door and inch it open to slip through it.

My feet squeak and sift through the damp grass. My toes are soaked with dew. It's humid and I'm greeted with the crickets chirping triply as loud as they were in my room when they were muffled through the walls.

When I see Miley, I explode with a ton of emotions, but somehow I keep a straight face on the outside. My stomach twists in three different layers of anxiety and attraction and delight, my heart instantly palpitates as if I just finished a three mile sprint.

God, I like her. I like her, but she hurt me.

She stands in the grass beside the last lawn light lining the driveway. They're hip high cubes of pale red bricks with human head-sized glass orbs of light on top that the kids aren't allowed to go near, incase they happen to have some ball that could smash them. It illuminates the outlines of the left side of her chestnut hair to glow orange, and it creates an eerie shadow over her eyes and lips.

Miley wears no emotion on her face. She stares at my flip flops and I watch the shadows shrink and grow when she finally looks up. The fiasco my internal organs were moments ago has now subsided. I feel… curious. I'm oddly patient, as I wait for Miley to part her pretty lips and speak with her smoky voice I'm craving to hear.

Her lips form a tight line as she clears her throat. "Hi…" she begins, very shyly.

I move to sit down on the brick surface of the lamp light and actually feel its heat radiating into my lower back. "Hey," I say, crossing my arms.

"Um… I don't know how to say this."

I don't respond. I want to jump and tell her she doesn't have to, she doesn't have to struggle just for little ol' me. And then the other, smarter half of me wishes to make her squirm or hurt just like I did. Do.

She sighs, and her eyes trail over to the grass again. The light hits her square, except her right hip and leg because I'm blocking it. Her eyes glisten. I hope I don't get in trouble for being out here. My mom would be confused if she found Miley when Miley's supposed to be gone, but I already formulated an excuse just in case.

Wait, speaking of gone… I'm going back home tomorrow night.

Shit. _Shit_.

"I'm leaving tomorrow night," I blurt out suddenly.

My heart hurts. I'm short of breath, in the bad way. Miley's face snaps up suddenly but I really wish it hadn't because the horrified look on her face is so stony yet slightly tweaked in the way that makes it look like she's about to cry.

"You're… you're what?" her voice is soft and on the verge of breaking.

"I'm going back to California."

She cracks into a smile that absolutely bewilders me, and chuckle/sighs through the nose. "Don't joke like that."

I feel like I can't get enough air. It's frightening. I still want to hear what Miley has to say.

"You're not joking…" she concludes.

"No, I'm not." I sound very stern, very dramatic, but I don't mean to.

Her eyes are kind of wide. "Shit… _no. _Please, can you… I need to… " She raises her arms and waves them frantically. She places them on either side of her head her breathing is quick and shallow.

I just watch her.

"I was wrong," Miley finally says. And drops her arms to her sides, and then crosses them. Her words fill me with this warmth, with this happiness, and how the fuck did my life get so deteriorated so quickly? "About the whole having one life thing. I'm not giving you up… I like you. I've never felt this way before, Lilly… I want to spend the summer together. Well, wanted to spend the summer together…"

What exactly she means by 'spend the summer together' I'm not certain, but I am certain my flight tomorrow will be cancelled one way or another.

And I'm floating on air. She came back to me. Yet, "But you wasted four days of my life," falls out of my mouth anyway.

Her face drops.

"And I think we should go make up for it."

At that, she grins, and I wonder if she knows what I mean by that. What _I_ mean is, I want to do things that don't involve talking about how horrible the past few days without each other were, or talking in general.

Her eyes flicker around my face and she wears a crooked, inquiring grin. For the first time I eye beyond her face and find her smooth chest and shoulders, I swear she's an illusion, I swear she's truly a marble statue to the eye but not the touch. Not that I'm complaining. She's so much warmer than a stupid statue.

Whatever I'm talking about, Miley finally cocks her head and breaks it, chuckling, "Lilly, you put the 'moan' in hormones. How about we just… hang out tomorrow?"

I do chuckle at the joke but I'm sort of upset she doesn't want to spend time together now. I hope I'm not pushing anything on her. I hope this is actually mutual, and she's not just saying things.

Then again, what are we supposed to do at three-o'-clock in the morning? Make out in some wet, muddy grass?

Wow. Making out with Miley. _There's _a thought. Jesus…

"I just don't want either of us t' get in trouble. I'll call ya in the mornin', alright?"

I watch her. She smiles. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss all that she is, all that she says, all that she thinks about.

"Alright." I can't help but smile back.

I push off the bricks and turn to head back into the house, when suddenly warmth soaks into my upper left arm. Finger tips are pushing into my cheek. Breath is exhaled against the opposite one, and I'm suddenly full to capacity with all these tingly feelings.

Finally, my world pivots and uproars and slams back down as her soft lips press into my cheek. I want to count how long, I'm not sure why, it's just my first instinct, but I'm too distracted by these amazing, pleasurable feelings coursing through me.

"Goodnight," Miley whispers against my cheek, 'night' pronounced somewhat like 'gnat', and I completely forget the seething resentment I have been drowning in for the past three days towards this girl.

"'Night," I somehow get out through a hopeless grin, and Miley turns and treads back to the road, not looking back. She disappears into the darkness and I hear fast, fading footsteps.

I turn to walk back into my house, mind flooded with images of Miley, Miley's name, words spoken in Miley's voice, and I blink and am suddenly in my bed.

But I can't sleep. I'm a little too busy thinking of a blue-eyed brunette with an oddly irresistible southern drawl.

-

**I'm really sorry. I am. It's just. School. And life, and stuff, and I'm sooooooo sorry… I'm sorry. Sorry. But, uh, yeah. In my defense, meager defense, mind you, I was going to separate this into two chapters but that would be borderline cruel. **

**Oh. And I'm really sorry. **

**Honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to do next. This story seems to go so much more smoothly when I wing it, which I have done with everything but the past two chapters or so. **

**So. Yeah. Leave your thoughts!**

**P.S.: sorryyy:(**


	10. How to Swim

My mom stops in the plane's aisle, and directs me to the right. I plop down in the window seat.

A funky, techno beat jumps into my headphones.

'_Don't stop now…_

_Hey, girl_

_I don't really wanna do nothin' today,_

_Just wanna do you tonight…'_

A small smile manages to make its way onto my face, and I actually feel some heat rise to my cheeks and neck. I stare out at the gorgeous pastel sunrise and the shadowed plane tail yards away from me and my window.

Honest? Miley definitely made up for that miserable period of time of and after the Fourth of July.

_God_.

-

Instead of ringing the doorbell, I'm alerted to go meet Miley like I planned half-an-hour ago by the sound of a horn.

I get off the couch and find my mom, who I was sitting next to, grinning into her cup of coffee. It is 9:30-something, after all.

"I can't believe you didn't actually get me a ticket," I said to her. My mom wasn't the only one in for a surprise when I woke up an hour earlier this morning to explain to her I got Miley visiting family confused with her leaving for school, only to find she never even got me a plane ticket for me to fear having to ask her to return.

"I can't believe you thought your friend actually left for school, when she was only a city over."

"Har har. Bye, mom."

"Bye, be safe, have fun," she says as she stretches out onto the rest of the couch.

I practically sprint to the door and out of it. Why is Miley in a car?

I step out on to the porch, the day has started and it's pretty hot out. I'm in a gray tank top, dark denim shorts, and lime green flip flops.

In the middle of the road, I find a worn baby blue Ford pick up. The tires are dusty and beat; there are rust stains all over the truck's body. Rising from the tires are splatters of dried dirt and mud. In fact, there's mud all over the thing.

I look up to the window to find Miley grinning down at me from the driver's seat. I've had my permit for three months.

I walk around the front of the truck, when it suddenly purrs and jolts forward at me a tad. I thrust my hand out as if to slap it back. I look up through the filthy windshield to find Miley cackling her head off at me. I roll my eyes but can't help but grin.

Her hair is all wavy and scrunchy and _sexy_. I have to practically hoist myself into the high, worn and scratched chestnut leather seat. It smells like, well, old leather and vanilla.

"Welcome to the Miley-mobile," Miley says to me in a tone I find oddly sultry for some reason, as she yanks back the stick and reverses to turn.

I ignore the heat that rises to my cheeks; I feel suddenly bashful or something.

Miley drives straight and I study her form. Her fingers are wrapped around the wheel, her legs are kind of spread, she's sort of slouched as she gazes ahead.

Miley driving a car is ridiculously hot… Keyword: ridiculously.

"What?" She questions with a prideful smirk when she finds me devouring her form, particularly the amount of her legs leftover by her extremely short shorts, the light-washed hole-y ones she wore the first time I ever met her on the side of her house as she did yard work.

"Uh…" I consider giving her the compliment stuck in my head, but decide against it. "Nothing."

"No, what is it?" She repeats, now chuckling, but her eyes are on the road.

"Do you even have your license?"

"Well, I have my tractor's license and my permit…"

"Oh, great. I'm being chauffeured by a criminal."

She giggles and backhands me playfully in the arm.

It's just me and Miley and the butterflies finally catch up to that fact. I grin goofily out the window. I can't help it. I catch a glimpse of myself in the huge, rectangular side view to find my face beet red. God, I'm such a dork. I force the smile off my face and try to calm down.

"So, aren't you curious as t' where I might be kidnappin' ya to?"

"Yes, I am. Where would that be?"

"Mars."

"Mars, hm?"

"Yeah, Mars."

I shoot her an inquisitive look. Where _is_ she taking me?

"You'll see."

I think Miley can read minds.

A few minutes down the road, past the left we take to get into town, Miley suddenly veers a left and I gasp, which I feel stupid for doing.

Miley just laughs.

We flatten our way through tall stalks of some type, and veer off until we're alongside some trees and the brotherin of those flattened stalks.

I brace the door and the edge of the seat closest to Miley's bracelet covered wrist jerked the stick shift forcefully, and we bang another sharp left.

Now we're rolling lazily down a wide, shady dirt road in the forest that I see is already covered with tire-tracks.

I figure out that we're going off-roading.

"Oh, god, Miley…"

She just grins devilishly, and I'm suddenly filled with adoration for the expression. Over and over, I can't help thinking how _hot_ she is. I'm almost embarrassed of myself. Could I at least choose another word? I have to naturally see her as hot?

We continue down the road, I see a little hole of light far up ahead, and I find that that's not true. Miley is a lot of words, and yes, 'hot' is in that mixture, but she's also so much more. It's just, right now, as I watch her work the stick shift impressively and concentrate on the road, I find her hot.

And we need to talk. We really do. I know Miley apologized… but how do I know she won't change her mind on me again?

But I'll save that for later. For now, I just want to have fun and stay in this good mood.

"You know what…" Miley mutters to herself as she checks her gauges. And suddenly I am pressed forcefully into my seat as the truck thrusts forwards and Miley accelerates. I watch the speedometer. We're hitting eighty. Ninety… and she slows down.

I laugh, almost of nervousness. Then I scold. "You could have hit a deer or something, you dork!"

"But, I didn't, so, uh, shush." And she grins over at me like she can't help but do it.

I know the feeling.

Now I see the sky and trees aren't blocking it; but then I look a little lower out of the windshield and find we're up at the top of a very steep hill.

Miley looks over to me, hands on the wheel, arms suspended. The wheel and rest of the truck are almost too big for lanky ol' Miley.

I feel anxious, a tad scared. This is how accidents happen; stupid things like this.

Miley takes her hands off the wheel and my heart beats in my throat uneasily.

My heartbeat rackets even higher when Miley reaches around me and grabs my unoccupied seatbelt, and pulls it over me. She happens to brush along my chest in the process and I have to take a slow blink. The car is suddenly piercingly silent until she clicks the seatbelt in.

"You nervous?" Miley whispers, and again her voice sounds so seductive and after the physical contact she just made with me, as small as it was, her words get quite the reaction from me. Damn my untapped hormones.

I turn my head over as its tilted back against the seat to find her eyes scanning upward hastily.

"A little bit," I admit.

"I can tell. But don't worry, I would never do anythin' to hurt you. Not again."

I gaze meaningfully into navy blue, and I not only hope she means this, but know she does.

She feels the same, she feels the _same…_

I'm so lost in her eyes, I'm startled when we begin rolling, and Miley laughs, and we begin to roll faster and then Miley puts her foot on the gas and jerks the stick shift again and we're flying down the winding road. Tall trees and unruly bushes flicker by me, and I brace the door and my seat again. Miley throws her entire body into twisting the wheel hastily, and we're falling and swerving and I'm clenching my teeth and feeling like I'm on a roller coaster, except I feel even safer. People die on roller coasters but Miley has sworn not to hurt me anymore. I feel fine. It's stupid, the reality of it, kids die doing this shit, too, and yet we wouldn't be doing it if Miley thought I'd really get hurt.

We're finally at the bottom of the hill, and just as I'm wondering why that was called mars, I see a huge, mile-wide ditch of crimson dirt with tons of donuts swerves and holes down below a steep wall of more orange dirt.

Miley doesn't go down it yet. We're laughing and catching our breath.

"Ready?" She asks.

"As I'll ever be"

And she makes it so we topple down, and for a moment I swear we're going to flip forward, but we don't.

Miley goes to the left where all I can see is open land, and it really does look like mars, except for the blue sky above us and power lines in the distance, and the trees high up above.

Miley speeds up to one-hundred-ten or so, which I'm surprised this truck can manage, then decelerate and we spin and spin and I feel like we could never stop. All I see is orange dirt sputtering up everywhere outside of the windows.

We continue farther left, until I spot a wide, probably four foot high dirt ramp. Miley speeds towards it and we soar in mid-air for a moment, then crash land, and my heart has been in my throat since I got in the truck, and I want to kiss Miley but I don't know if she wants to kiss me.

I'm laughing, and so is she and our eyes meet again.

"Did you have breakfast yet?" she asks as we drive along.

"No, I wasn't hungry when I got up."

"Which was unusu'ly early, I noticed."

She's right. I woke up especially early because I want to spend an entire day with her. Yesterday and the day before I was getting up at 2 pm.

"How 'bout we go grab somethin'?"

"With the money I don't have?"

"Who said you were payin'?"

I grin. But I _am _a little confused… when it's a girl-girl relationship, how do things like paying for the date or picking up work? The guy usually does all of that.

"Well, I did ask you to hang out, didn't I?" Miley answers for me.

I really do swear she can read minds.

-

_She tastes… fruity. Like some type of watermelon candy. _

_I don't even know where I am right now. The car roof and car walls and stick shift and the bluest blue sky outside the windshield and the passenger seat my hip juts against as I lean twisted awkwardly over the center console have slipped into oblivion. _

_Miley kisses soft and slow and tauntingly, even though I'm no longer taunted but have finally been granted her lips on mine. All I feel is the hard, serrated edges of her teeth raking feather-light along my bottom lip as she sucks. God, she can kiss._

_My hand rests on her thigh. I've never been lost in a kiss like this. I offhandedly note the only pieces of my body I can feel are the ones touching Miley. _

_Being in such close proximity with her hair is sending me in a whirlwind of vanilla and Miley. I swear no one else smells as good. Amber spells like Love Spell and Ashley smells like Hollister, but no one could pull off vanilla and laundry detergent like Miley can. _

_The scent sends a beat of what I now recognize as arousal through me and forces a light whimper straight out of my throat. _

_Miley's warm hands line my jaw, I realize as she breaks our kiss and rests her nose beside mine and sends hot tickles of breath over my lips. "Oh, God, Lilly…" she groans against my lips before crashing hers against them again. _

_She's leaning towards me, pushing me back into my spacey seat until I'm flat on my back, and the heat on the sides of my face is lost as she momentarily removes her hands. She braces the sides of my seat and sits one knee on the outsides of my thighs; she's straddling me. _

_I feel like I'm in a dentist's office when she reaches between the door and the seat and I catch a glimpse of the trees back on the window, as we're back at 'Mars' by now, and I'm tilting back gently. _

_I can't really stand how sexy it all is; how turned on I am. I've got a death grip on the door pocket and another curled with slight pressure around Miley's insanely smooth, bare thigh. I'm throbbing sensually; to be honest, I didn't really know I was capable of doing so. I didn't know it could be so pleasurable, either. _

_My eyes shut heavily, I'm in a daze, and Miley's lips come back to mine. Her hands trail up my sides and I immediately erupt in chills. God, it feels so good… _

_She rubs her lips against mine; and I slowly part mine. My hands stiffly release their hold of her car and I bury and thread them through her curls. Her hands pause in their movement against my hips and squeeze just enough to make me groan. Pressure, it's all about the correct amount of pressure. _

_I run my nails along her scalp, twist locks of her hair lightly around my fingertips. She exhales a sigh through her nose. _

_She begins sucking on my lower lip again, and I realize how swollen it feels between her lip and teeth. Oh man, she's amazing at this. _

_Her tongue is in my mouth. The girl, the horse-riding, fun-loving, fashionable, happy-go-lucky, silly to no end brunette I fell for sitting in a fast-food chain restaurant is pushing her tongue into—_

"What'll you have for drinks, girls?"

I blink at the 'Beverages' section of the Winson Diner menu and ask the waiter for a chocolate that Miley mirrors, and shrink into my seat while I try to somehow summon cool air to the surface of my cheeks and neck.

I look everywhere but at Miley, until she says "Y'okay over there?" and I stop dead in my tracks when I look up and drink in her expression.

I don't know why the hell I find it so alluring, but she has that toothless, half-smirk planted on her face that splits to reveal pearly whites when I stare for a second's duration, as well as a raised, perfectly-manicured eyebrow.

She's so… eugh, god…

"Yes, I'm fine," I squeak at my menu as I half-heartedly scan the diner's impressive omelet selection.

From the corner of my eye, I watch Miley's tan arms creep across the table, barred across her chest and extended, as she rests her jaw in her palm.

I see, no, I _feel_ her eyes on me and I feel no different than when I was flying midair in her filthy pick-up truck scarcely fifteen minutes ago.

"Don't you have a menu to be reading?"

"No, but I do have a Lilly t' be readin'"

My belly and heart swell at the sight of her gazing at me through her bottom lashes, head tilted back slightly, with this crooked, liquid smirk on her face, shoved up by her palm pedestal.

I can't help but crack a grin at my menu. I hear her chuckle and I finally decide what I'm going to do today; I'm going to kiss Miley. Not colliding roughly because of muddy terrain, or goodnight-kissing her on the cheek—no, I'm giving her a real kiss. That's what's on today's agenda.

"What are you thinking 'bout?" God, I love how she talks. She says it like she's supposed to ask it, like it's a command she gives to me everyday, and I don't just like it, but I love it. What is happening to me…

I decide to be daring; it makes my forehead flash hotly but when I brush my fingertips along, there's no perspiration whatsoever. "You."

My raises an eyebrow again. "What a coincidence. Same here."

"What could you be possibly thinking about me?"

The waiter arrives with our chocolate milks. We pause in the conversation to give our orders, I hop out of the over heated, four-trillion-watt boxing ring but the match isn't finished. I look up at her while I take a swig of my drink. She just watches me, gazing again and stirs her own gently, slowly. The way I want her to kiss me.

"That you're extremely hard t' read."

"Well, what can't you read?"

Miley chuckles and shifts her gaze out the window to my right. My body temperature cools down a few degrees instantly, so I'm not absolutely sweltering. "Nothin'."

I smile into my hot chocolate.

"I really am sorry."

The mood changes—playful and cryptic to sentimental. I look up at her again to see gorgeous navy blue slide at me, and it makes me begin to tremble awkwardly for a moment because she's just that pretty. I lean my elbows up on the table, my stance matching my intriguing mind set.

"Its okay, Miley," I say in that soft, heroic tone. "We have a lot of time together. If you're feeling what I'm feeling, we won't waste any of it."

"What, exactly, _are_ you feelin'?"

It's my turn to look out the window. The Winson Diner is in the opposite direction of town—we passed both Miley and my aunt and uncle's houses to get here. I see the highway in the distance, past the gleaming parking lot, and the lush green trees that I can't comprehend the solidity of; how haven't they melted yet? They're constantly in the sun. I'm constantly in Miley's presence, and I'm scarcely holding it all together… Which one's stronger?

I put words together, my mind is working so hard and fast to find the perfect words to impress the perfect girl, I swear that it's whirring audibly like a machine.

"I'm not sure—I've never felt it before. I'd like more time to explore the area," I reply with a cheesy smile, turn my gaze back to her.

Now she has an eye slightly squinted and a brow lowered. Jeez, these expressions on that face are driving me crazy. I'm considering jumping her bones the second we get back into the truck, but I immediately decide against it. I need this particular kiss to be special; not that the others aren't special enough to not be replayed in my mind every seven seconds.

"You got it, chief."

My omelet and her French toast with butter and powdered sugar arrive and we dig in. I steal glances at her from across the table, which is odd, because I'm more focused on something else than the food in front of me for once. The only thing weirder than that is the way I happen to meet a pair of gorgeous cobalt eyes each time.

-

It's hard to pick a best day of your life, but if I had to I think I'd honestly pick this one, and I know my answer won't change for a long, long time. Fun, food, and Miley—that's all I realize I want at this point in my life. The third one is a work in progress, although I've pretty much obtained her.

We were unsure about returning to the creek, but that was an hour or more ago, and now we're on our backs on the dock staring up at purple clouds with hot pink highlights in an orange-y-salmon sky.

Miley's arm is touching mine and it makes me ridiculously happy. Beads of creek water crawl all down and off me, and I breathe heavily. Miley beat me in a race across the creek, yet again.

"What's farther down the river?" I ask Miley, my voice kind of croaky because we've been silent for the past five or so minutes.

Miley clears her throat, nearly startled, "Um, rapids, actually."

"Really? Like ones you can kayak on?"

"Yep. There's even a place where you can rent them way down there, but most people around here own their own. There are houses miles down, riverside, too."

"Wow, that's so cool. Do you have your own?"

"Nah, I used to use my friend Travis's."

I thought she didn't have any friends around here. Confused, I say, "Oh, who's he?"

Miley sighs. "This… kid I grew up with… but we don't talk much 'sides the usual 'Hey, how are you?' text."

"Oh, I see. What happened?" I'm curious. What does he look like? I bet they had romantic relations.

"Ehh… we had a thing I didn't want to keep, 'cause I went to my new school and things changed."

"Oh." I don't mean for it to come out so quiet and low, but it does, because that's how the statement she just made instantly makes me feel. What's going to happen to _us_ after this summer…?

Miley rolls onto her side. "What?" she asks. Her hair glitters orange from the sunset. The trees and ground glow pink in spotted sections because of the leaves. The lightly grooving creek water is bright hot pink, and the waterfall splashes smooth in the background. Crickets chirp and my heart beats and I attempt to keep my gaze on the clouds but Miley's hanging over me and I can't help it. "What?" she asks again.

"I'm gonna miss you when I leave…"

Her face turns horrorstricken. "That's not—that's not tomorrow, is it?"

"No, no… my mom never even bought me my ticket. I mean at the end of the summer."

She sighs of relief. "Well, by then I'll surely be too attached to you not to keep in touch. Don't worry, Lilly. I dunno about you, but I don't plan on this bein' a summer fling… Well, I really hope it ain't…" She's now looking behind my head.

I don't know why, but I scramble up to her level and press my finger tips into her cheek and she's looking straight into me.

"Then it won't be," I'm whispering. I don't know why. It's all perfect and secluded back here at the creek; just think, five nights ago, Miley and I argued here and my heart was broken right on this spot… and now here I am again, five nights later. If only I knew then…

She parts her lips but they drift back together, though still not completely closed. I realize how concentrated my stare on them is, and then I look up to her eyes to find them more grey than blue and extremely serious. She is daring me to kiss her and I think that's a challenge I'll take her up on.

I begin to inch closer to her, her lips, they are the goal, the prize, and reality is always so much bigger and brighter and, well, realer than fantasies—kind of like the ones I've been having all day here and there quite similar to the one my mind wandered into back at the diner.

The thought of that scenario sends a shooting pulse of arousal down, down to the ball of my bladder, and my lips are suddenly pressing against Miley's.

Like I said, this is nothing like what I fantasize about, and I don't plan for it to ever quite so be. This is so woodsy and nature-set and so... _audible_. Her lips are so soft, something my imagination won't provide. The small, short, nervous puffs of air she exhales right beside my nose on the front of my cheek can't be fabricated in my dreams.

My body reacts very strongly to the kiss, and though I expected it, it's kind of like expecting to be electrocuted by a shock-pen fence then accidentally putting your arm on it and it zapping you—no, exactly like that, scratch the kind of. It catches me by surprise just how intense the butterflies are and how deliciously nauseous my stomach feels and how my heart is beating so fast is almost like a rough hum, and when she brushes and forms her lips against mine like testing out puzzle pieces it makes my lips _ache_.

So when I catch her bottom lip between mine and she's stone-still, it drives me insane because the pleasure somewhat subsides.

We're _kissing_, god, we're finally kissing.

I don't expect to be the dominant one. It's almost terrifying as I maneuver Miley onto her back, leaning on her gently until she gets the hint and lays back. I was, for some reason, expecting mature, fashionable, responsible Miley to shape her lips and tongue around mine immediately and launch me into heaven.

Instead, I'm slowly, timidly tracing my tongue along her bottom lip, my palms against the deck, half on top of her, and suddenly a patch of wet, slick, heavy het is bleeding into my mouth and I meet it and my body hyper-hops back into pulsing and going crazy and feeling absolutely…

I open my top lip higher than Miley's mouth and release a sigh. Miley's tongue swerves passionately across my mouth in response, and her soft hands are on either side of my hips and she is directing me more on top of her. My entire body pulses sensually, I rest on her slightly and my center is heavy against her leg and it instantly makes my eyes roll behind their closed lids. It just makes me hornier, and I want to move it for self-conscious motives and for the sake of keeping this experience innocent, but then I realize the rest of me is hot and wet from the creek and my warm-blooded tendencies anyhow so it doesn't _really_ matter. The fact that we're in bikinis and I feel all of her smooth, wet, warm skin is only adding to this issue.

I'm prodding my tongue around Miley's against it, along it, I'm fully submerged in her mouth when suddenly her hands, her delicate fingertips trail along my lower back, quick and unexpected and I automatically jerk against her leg and groan and sigh and I almost cease all of my motions and realize Miley's not as experienced as I thought. Or maybe she didn't realize how sensitive I am. Or… maybe she doesn't know what exactly she's doing to me. Either way, she fails to correct her mistake; she continues to trail her fingers higher and higher and lower and lower, in circles of all circumferences all around my lower back region and up my sides and at one point my tongue just stops in her mouth and I have to manually remind myself to revitalize it.

Okay, maybe she is good at this.

Ugh, why am I so focused on how good of a kisser she is? I'm getting on my own nerves.

She's is pretty good, though. I guess it can just add to the fantasies.

Oh, I can_not_ think with her doing this crap to my back. Jesus Christ…

She trails down lowest, towards the edge of the butt of my bikini bottoms, and I detach my lips from her and gasp and groan, yet again, slowly bobbing against her leg, and her name is passing through my lips. "Miley, hunh, Miley…."

I'm on fire. My center and bladder are sore from throbbing. My lips stagger in midair and my nose is pressed to the front of her cheek. I want to make her vocalize the way I am, a sudden, blind desire. I press my still parted lips against her chin, and jaw, again and again and again. I open my eyes for a split second and close them to see her wet hair stuck against her exposed neck. I open my eyes again to find her head tilted back like it was at me in the diner, and I exhale against her jugular. I bring up a hooked finger and wipe the strand of hair pressed against her neck away.

Miley makes the most beautiful sound I swear I have _ever _heard right into my ear and I begin bobbing again, but stop myself. Instead I lean my chest fully on her and bring both of my hands against her sides.

I'm kissing her slender, feminine neck and she whimpers high-pitched in my ear, and immediately is pushing up into me off of the deck. I know this is going kind of far but I can't—I can't stop. I have to stifle my hips, so instead I just squeeze her.

"_Lilly_…" the way she says it, this soft, barely formed whisper, up against my ear again, and I dig my finger nails lightly into her soft, plushy curves and she bucks fully against me.

We need to stop, I know we do. We need to stop, we need to stop…

I attach my lips to her jugular and suck, and suck. She exhales until her chest gets hollow. "Oh my _god_," she whispers in the same voice, and now I can't help but grind into her leg with a little more pressure.

I kiss my way up to her ear with plans to speak and my bottom lip sticks to her lobe and she shudders hard. She moans and I push against her hard thigh, again, and it feels so, so, _so _good.

"We need to stop," I whisper shakily. She shudders again. Her hands that have stilled on my back long ago drop to the deck a moment later.

"Yeah, we do," she says softly from the back of her throat, yet another voice I've never heard before.

I go to get off of her, but I feel two palms pressing up my back and I'm pinned to her. She gives me a strong, hard kiss, and breaks away and drops her arms, but then I return it by sucking on her bottom lip soundlessly for a moment.

She makes an "Mmh…" and pushes lightly against my arm and I finally roll off of her.

We're right back where we started, staring up at the clouds, but Miley's fingertips slide along my hand and then her fingers are slipping between mine like a liquid.

"That sure was fun while it lasted," she says after a beat of only crickets and waterfall that I forgot existed, completely.

"I didn't mean to get that out of hand…" I chuckle nervously.

"Neither did I…"

I need to know something. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I turn to her, to find her face already looking at me—her cheeks and a blotch of her chin is all scarlet. It's adorable. Her pupils are dilated—her eyes seem so _dark._ She's gorgeous after out make-out session. What do I look like?

"Well, yes… but technically…" She trails off for what could turn into minutes.

"What? Technically what?" I feel kind of terrible, but I need to know.

"There's some things we can do."

I grin and smirk; not out of cockiness, but abashedly. It feels odd on my face. People don't usually get me like this, but then again, Miley's not a usual person. Not at all.

Miley proceeds to tap her fingertips along my knuckles and my grin gets wider. Her eyes roll every which way, comically, and I get the hint by this point. I can't help but be excited for whatever is to come our way in the near future.

And I press a small kiss to her lips. I'm electrified all over again, but not quite as horny. Just ecstatic—satisfied. I pull away and her eyes are closed, and she's smiling. She gives another, more contented "mmh…" and I couldn't wipe the smile off my own face if I tried.

It's my favorite of her expressions yet.

-

**I wish my love life was identical to Miley and Lilly's in this story. Someone get me a girlfriend. Seriously. Dark hair, blue eyes—please?**


	11. Why I Feel So Weak

Now I just want you to know, how I'm touched deep in my soul

Just being with you…

"Get Smart" is on and my window is open, but I don't look at either. My forearms rest on the fold-down tray we have here in the Coach section and I gaze only at the screen of the phone in my fingers.

I gaze at picture after picture of her… I began taking them frequently after the first date. Her eyes, the back of her head, her lips, her collar bones, a thigh, a face, a smile, a pout. I pause at one in particular, of her face relaxed and tranquil, eyes closed. She's asleep. It's pretty dark and the angle the moonlight shines down on her at is almost eerie, but it's of the first time we fell asleep with each other, a vivid memory. I'm not touching her, but I soon learned I didn't have to.

I adjusted to having Miley around every day immediately, practically the day I got to Tennessee. It refined the idea of me visiting my aunt and uncles'. And now I have to go back to the way things were; but the thing is, I'm not going back home the same. Everything… has changed.

At first, I wanted nothing but to touch Miley. I wanted to feel her velvet-smooth skin and the muscle and bone and flesh beneath it. She was real and there and heaven for my hands and fingertips. But almost like an atom, all the mass was in the nucleus—her mind. I also wanted to know every thought Miley had, I wanted to know every opinion Miley had ever concurred; I wanted to know what made Miley tick. I didn't want sex. I wanted, as female-ish as this is, to appreciate. To know.

And that's exactly what I did.

-

"Are you bored?" I ask her, in a sweet, soft voice that's only reserved for her.

"No, relaxed," she says through a smile proving her true.

You ever wonder what your heaven will look like? I used to, every other night or so. Before summer.

But now I know for sure what I'll rapidly ascend towards when I leave this life: My back against a huge tree truck in the shade of an unusually breezy Tennessee summer afternoon, with the sight of lime green, glowing leaves sputtering into a cornflower blue sky and casting a patchy, jagged blanket of shadow to us mortals on the grassy floor.

I'll find myself sunken down against this tree and only this tree with Miley's head resting on my waist, her face angled towards the sky and her eyes closed. She sighs peacefully every now and then. My fingers are threading through her hair, my nails make circles on her scalp and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'd have pushed anyone else off of me when my arm got tired, which occurred a while ago, but serenading Miley is so worth it.

We're in a mini-meadow. We're past the grass and tiny, pretty-colored wildflowers we once rode across on her horses. We aren't in the woods, though, but against a large, perfect tree at the edge of it with roots that come out of the flattened, also overgrown grass like arm rests.

"Good."

Her eyes are closed, her lashes, dark and curled with no mascara, appeal to me greatly. The things that make girls, girls are the things that drive me crazy about this girl in my lap.

Go figure.

Her face is spotted with blotches of sunlight bleeding through our umbrella of leaves overhead.

I don't care what I've seen of Miley before; this is the most beautiful I've seen her so far.

And her hair beneath my finger tips… god, her hair is so soft and tamed and glossy that I can barely feel it spiraling around my nails anymore. Does that make sense?

"So." Miley's voice is croaky and far-off when she finally decides to break the comfortable silence we swim in.

"So." I mirror, and my eyes are all over her face. Her eyelashes part and reveal the most stunning swirl of, I don't know, thin bronze explosions around her pupils, then a mint green, blue jay blue, and charcoal gray outline, in an instant blooming-flower fashion. Miley's eyes are prettier than any flower, no matter what day or mood or color. So fascinating… I will never get tired of looking into them.

She stares up at me. She looks so innocent as she blinks, twice, head in _my_ lap, eyes into _my_ brain. Just gazes all the way inside of me, she knows what she does, but with that face you'd never know so…

"We're playing twen'ny questions," Miley informs me. I love when we play that. Could this get better?

I nod my head and continue to stare at her. My tailbone is stabbing into the hard tree at this awkward angle I'm hovering over Miley at.

I'm so engrossed. _So _engrossed.

Miley's lips upturn into a grin, the kind that makes her eyes all squinty. I want to kiss her.

Oh, wait. I can.

I hunch over even more, the back of my hot pink t-shirt that says Roxy across the chest in white letters riding up so the tree bark is beginning to scrape me. It's nearly surreal when I open my eyes and I'm so close I can see her pores, similar to seeing craters on the surface of the moon, in that close-up shot, but certainly not of the same texture. My left hand sits on my lap, buried in her silk hair.

I press my lips to hers perpendicularly. Just a peck. I pull back, so happy, unbelievably, ridiculously happy from the tiny, little action.

That felt so _good. _So clean and free and good!

I sit back against the tree. Miley looks up at me, lazy smile on her face and then she opens her eyes but not quite as wide as before.

"When did y' realize y' liked me?" Miley asks, and her voice is just so gravelly I almost kiss her again, but her question is insanely intriguing and I want to answer it, badly.

My eyes scan over the wildflowers in front of us as I think back.

When was it? The side of her house after playing football with my cousins? The stalls, realizing we were designed to be friends? Playing chicken that first time?

Oh, right, it was at Wendy's!

"I realized I was attracted to you that time you bought me food at Wendy's." My hand raises and begins massaging Miley's scalp again. The items in my torso tighten and tangle as she takes in a slow blink that I can totally relate to.

I think about this often, but _is _this what liking someone feels like? Because it's so real compared to everything prior. I've had crushes before. On guys. That's liking.

…What is this?

"Hm, of course it would involve food…" She says offhandedly, grinning, gazing at me. "Your turn."

"When did you realize _you _liked _me_?" I really want to know. I want to know Miley's _entire_ side of this, more than I want to know where I'll go when I die or why I'm here or who the first of us was.

"Two days after we met."

I rear back a little. "What?"

She breaks her stare on me, gazes up at the sunlight that shines down on her.

"_How_?" I'm shocked at the least.

"Well… We met. As y' know. And I was happy that I had someone to hang out with," I know that feeling, I was miserable at the start of this vacation, "and then I was thinkin' about… how pretty you are. And how bad I wan'ed to get to know you. I knew I was attracted to you. I couldn't get you outta my head."

"Was I the first girl you ever liked?"

"Ah, ah, ah, Queenie," I forgot about our nicknames, somehow, "one question at a time."

I chuckle. "Okay, okay." I sigh, and my back relaxes and melts into the tree.

I can't believe she's liked me this entire time…

"Alright," Miley says, and suddenly things get all serious and tense, "that time, on your hammock, on the—uh—Fourth of July," we haven't talked about that night since we made up, "weren't you about to kiss me?"

I feel my cheeks heat up significantly. I no longer get hot and sweaty and generally uncomfortable to the point where I know it's not the summer heat when I'm in Miley's presence; but this makes me blush. "Yes."

"Why'd you—" She's urgent, her back muscles even tense up.

I hold up an index finger. "You know the rules, stingray," I interject, "one at a time."

Miley relaxes, and sighs, and chuckles, and she is without a doubt perfectly imperfect perfection. Even her flaws, I love.

Wait—love? _What?_

"What? What? What's wrong?" Miley is off my lap immediately. She sits against my other leg. She's very up in my face—very urgent.

"I—um…" Should I tell her?

"What?" She implores.

I realize I must look like I'm having a heart attack. I breathe and crack a smile, on auto-pilot. "I, uh, I thought I left the toaster on."

Miley squints her eyes disbelievingly at me and lays back into my lap. She grabs my hand, her own soft and hot, and deposits it on her head. Like a zombie, I play with the chestnut locks, though the gesture makes my heart smile, let alone my mouth.

_Love_? Love. Love. Love?!

Jesus Christ… is that it? Can I say that after two and a half months? Not even… love… what…?

But it fits so perfectly. I love Miley. I imagine telling people about Miley, and the words 'I love that girl' are right there in the scenario. The number one ingredient to it, actually.

"Okay, ask me another one."

"Why did you kiss me in the creek, on July Fourth?" I spit out. I kissed her on the cheek, but she kissed me on the lips and I always wonder why.

She looks at me, and she answers softly, "Because I couldn't stop myself."

I blink. I don't want to hold Miley's mistakes against her: not wanting this beautiful thing we have right here, and kissing me and then rejecting me only to take me later. Putting me through that was messed up, and as happy as I am right now with her in my arms I'm still a little mad about it. I don't want to hold Miley's mistakes against her but I just can't help it.

"Why didn't you kiss me on your hammock?"

"Why does it matter? We ended up kissing anyway" I say somewhat bitterly. The mood is altered suddenly; from breezy and silently ecstatic and overly-content to dramatic and frustrating.

"I dunno, I was always just curious as to why you turned away."

"_You_ turned away. I was checking to see if anyone was coming."

"Oh. Are you mad? Why're you mad?"

I sigh, and rest my head back against the tree, eyes closed. "That was two questions at once," I mumble. I feel stressed, and it doubles when Miley sits up in my lap and peers straight into my face and her brow is drawn together in confusion, as cute as it is.

"Lilly…" Miley says in a completely new, different voice. One that's under her breath and makes me keep my eyes closed. "In all seriousness, what I did was horrible. And I'll always be sorry for it. But I… can't be sorry for asking for you back, 'cause of what we have now. I messed up, but at least we got here."

How could you not want this? Even for a few days? How long did you know you didn't want this and were planning on leading me on… "Yeah. You're right."

I jump a little bit when I feel her breath on my lips as she says, "But, I am darn sorry whether ya honestly do or don't …" The rounding of her lips are now brushing against mine, and the gentleness affects me instantly. A breeze skirts along my arms and she presses a kiss to my lips, the second time she's ever kissed me, but the first time she's kissed me to show me meaning. It's short and soft and I nod slowly when she pulls away.

"So, that time we 'accidentally kissed' in the mud…" I begin lowly.

Miley chuckles. "Fate, I swear it."

And I grin, and I can't be angry anymore because Miley's sorry and I see that I can't help but forgive her, no matter what she ever does wrong, because I care so much about her.

This tree has probably skirted past my vision at least a dozen times since my relationship with Miley developed; but never would I have guessed I was seeing the place where I will realize, for the first time, that I love Miley.

-

I put me and Miley's dishes in the sink and she's in front of me going up the stairs. I watch her hips sway. She's wearing denim shorts and a plain, dark red t-shirt that compliments her curves and color tones.

"I hate you so much," I say earnestly through a chuckle after a moment.

"Who, me?" She says, tossing a cheesy grin that makes my heart shoot into my windpipe over her shoulder.

"Uh, yeah, you. I didn't run my fingers all over _your_ legs during every suggestive, romantic scene in Hercules…"

Miley just chuckles. "No, you didn't."

And I huff, mockingly. I couldn't possibly be upset right now, when Miley's going to spend the night. In fact, I'm unnecessarily giddy and excited.

A) We've never had a sleepover. B) I have this desire to… I don't know, hold her and go to sleep. It's just this strange, itching need I saw displayed in a movie and ever since wanted to try.

I lead her into my room and after I take two steps inside, Miley shuts my door and locks it.

I turn around to her, brow raised. She's looking at me, like there's nothing else in this room or in this world, and it makes my veins pump a different kind of blood. I gaze at her stepping closer through hazy, hooded eyes and a serious, solemn feeling rises in me.

Her lips slam into mine, and her hands curl around the back of my head and neck, and my eyes almost pop out of my head. The room, where did it go? Am I standing, am I sitting? Everything flies away the moment she, Miley, gorgeous Southern girl across the street of my aunt and uncles' house I fell for in two weeks slips a slick, supple, hot tongue between my lips…

"_I knew I was attracted to you. I couldn't get you outta my head."_

Her hands slide down to my hips and she walks me back into the bed. The one I've spent so many sleepless, sweat-coated nights with her bright in mind on. The backs of my knees hit it but before I get the chance to sit us down, Miley shoves me down flat lightly but hastily.

Her tongue circulates my mouth, slides against my cheek, her breath and taste is of the fruit punch she just drank.

And suddenly its all gone, my mouth feels so empty without her prodding around in it, but then she relocates on my neck and I'm wondering where exactly this is coming from.

Everyone has a spot or two, and I think Miley knows she's found my first when she plants her mouth in the middle of my jugular. Instantly my breathing sounds like an accelerating train, racketing almost out of control but not quite. I can't help the sounds that come from the back of my throat, not that I want to. In a way, they relieve the pressure building up.

"Damn…" I manage to shell out, "Where'd this come from?" It's honestly extremely difficult to speak with Miley trailing her lips up and down my neck.

She separates from me, the warm, wet contact is missed, "Let me just say… you ridin' a horse is quite intriguing…" which we were doing earlier.

I chuckle through the nose and Miley makes a sigh-infused "mmh…" against my throat. She's really… wow…

Miley switches to the other side of my neck that is itching for her and after kissing it twice, her tongue runs along me, and I sound like a breathy, stuck CD.

Miley lays with her legs half on mine, but she shimmies them open and rests between them and although she's pushing right above where I really want her to push against, the position drives me crazy.

My hands cup her hips with barely any pressure. I brush them along the empty belt loops of her shorts, further down to her upper thighs and I think I feel her shiver. I fidget and the dampness between my legs becomes apparent to me, to the point where I think it's through my Soffee shorts. My last boyfriend did this thing to me once… I take my nails and skim them with slight pressure around the butt pockets of Miley's shorts.

Her tongue ceases its motion and her waist is pushing me relentlessly into the bed. Her back is arched and I want to feel. I trail one hand up and continue my ministrations with my other hand. Her skin is milky smooth and moist with sweat. I trail my nails up, up, into the dipping dent of her back and I rub from side to side and truly feel just how slim she is. Every muscle in her back is strained, hard as rock, yet her skin is so malleable…

She exhales through her nose and makes another noise in the back of her throat that hits me straight to where she's now pressing against. She attaches her lips to my jugular again, and trails down, down, to my shoulder muscle. She pulls and sucks and bites and licks rhythmically, almost savagely, she's practically attacking me but it's the best I've ever had.

All I hear is my breathing, every few breaths I say "_Miley" _or "_God_" which is funny in a sense because it's as if they're synonyms in my eyes, and now I'm unashamedly beginning to rock against her, she's hitting the exact spot I need her to in this position, and my nails grate through her skin and into her back tissue.

Suddenly, a sound that doesn't come from me or Miley jumps into the moment; loud pounding on my wooden door.

"_What_?!" I shout angrily, as Miley freezes.

"Come watch Horton!" I hear a child's voice say, I think its Lorrie.

I growl, on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum, and I think I feel Miley jerk against me a little. "But we just watched Hercules!"

"Please?"

I sigh harshly. "Alright, we'll be down in a sex—I mean, sec!" I cringe at my mix-up, as Miley chuckles lightly against my skin and begins to kiss her way up to my ear. I'm sure there's a huge, unavoidable hickey I'm going to need to hide but that thought just makes my stomach twist in excitement and happiness.

I keeping thinking Miley will pull away, but after a minute I force out, "Aren't we, uh… going down—downstairs?" God, I never stutter.

She chuckles again, right in my ear, almost maliciously, devilishly and it's maybe the sexiest thing I've ever heard, scratch every other chuckle she's ever made, and says, "Not yet," and I shiver from the chills that roll down my spine. I doubt we'll get out of this bed at all, because unfortunately even my adorable baby cousin's request could pry me from paradise, as gluttonous and greedy as that is.

She works my shirt off, and although I've been shirtless in front of Miley before, I've never been under her as she undressed me, and then gazed at me like a starving man to a piece of meat. That's half of how she's treating me, not that I really mind, because I know I treat her that way sometimes. I just don't understand, exactly, what she sees, to be completely honest, what I possibly have that she looks for in a mate. I have so much to ask her, I discover as I look in her hooded, navy eyes, darkened like magic. Although I know all the small stuff about Miley and parts of her side on what's happened between us, I don't know many of her opinions as an intellectual.

And if I weren't throbbing and ticking right now, I'd be working those things out of her. As much as I want to know what's stored under those clothes and behind those lips, I also want to know what's stored behind those cobalt eyes, in that mind.

"We're going out of order," I whisper, shakily.

"What? Not enough foreplay?" She responds high-pitched, as her eyes stop raking my naked torso, besides my bra, and meet my own eyes.

I laugh. "No, no… Okay, you know I'm soaked right now, you know I want to do this with you… but… there's so much I feel like I don't know. It wouldn't feel right just yet. We've spent practically every minute together since I got here, but I just… well, I just want to talk to you."

Miley pulls back. Her cheeks are hot pink blotches in the dim light of my night table, her lip line is all red.

She searches my face with frenzied eyes. She seems to release a breath shortly as if she didn't realize she was holding it in.

"We talk," she debates.

"Lately, just with our hands. And mouths. Ever since we admitted our feelings for each other. I like how it was earlier this afternoon, but instead of talking about you and me for once, I just want to hear about _you_."

Miley's brows raise, then lower. She looks to my left, nods slowly, flops off of me and lands not far beside me in the narrow twin bed. After shifting, she is on her side with her elbow submerged in the pillow and her head meeting her palm.

"What do you want to hear?"

"I want to hear…" I consider this, I think, think back, and then I find the perfect question. "Do you think everything happens for a reason?"

Miley's eyes kind of widen, and then her trade mark, half grin appears, and I actually begin throbbing, everywhere at the gesture.

I try to exhale, but I accidentally moan in the back of my throat and Miley looks at me strangely.

"Sorry," I snicker, and when she's still staring at me skeptically, I point loosely at my mouth. "I enjoy watching you smirk crookedly," I provide.

"It's alright. I enjoy watching you resurface out of a body of water with yer head tilted back." My eyes pop open. "Anyway, yes, I believe everything happens for a reason."

"Why did you ask me that when we were on my skateboard that one time?"

She grins, almost sheepishly. She's so cute…

"You're so cute," I say under my breath. It's almost creepy-sounding when it meets my ears because it's so serious.

Her grin melts into something more serious, and she thanks me quietly.

She clears her throat and speaks. "I asked you, because… I dunno, I had these crazy feelings for you and at the same time I felt like we could talk about anything. I guess I wan'ed to know what_ you_ thought, regardless of the question pertainin' to an attraction towards you. Y'know?"

"Mhm. So… for what reason do you think this all happened?"

"I have this… theory," she glances emptily at my chest and I realize I'm shirtless, but I don't feel like breaking this gaze and walking across the room to where Miley tossed my shirt. "I told you a little bit… Well, I think you came here this year so we could meet. I think you were outside playin' football with your cousins that afternoon and I was walkin' around the side of my house when you finally came over for a reason. It was like that for a reason. You were all tan and sweaty and covered with dirt but still ridiculously gorgeous for a _reason_. I know the reasons fer some things, but not all of them; the biggest thing bein' why, exactly, we met."

She's complicated. Miley is complicated and philosophical and I want to hear every damn philosophy she has.

"Well, you're quite the shallow thinker…" I mumble, gazing at her in awe.

She chuckles. "Didn't think backwoods country girls could do that thinkin' thang, did ya?"

"Miley…"

"Ah, I'm just kiddin'."

"But you're not. When are you going to realize I find your accent and toned body nature knowledge attractive? I don't care where you're from. Why do you?"

"Because, Lilly, honestly? I can't figure out _why_ you're attracted to me. You're gorgeous and funny and adventurous and courageous and intelligent and sweet and are way, way more than a great catch. I don't know, I guess when we met I was a little intimidated by you…"

"You… were intimidated… by _me_?" I kind of pressed for air from the irony.

"Yes. The beautiful California girl with big blue eyes and on-point pronunciation that's probably never seen an evergreen in her life yet falls in love with nature the first chance she gets—you."

I smile. "Why are you so intrigued by my nature-loving conversion?"

"It's just something I can appreciate."

Miley speaks looking straight into my eyes and her words are embedded into my mind and soul. Now I know. I know about her.

But she really needs to know about me.

"I think I need to explain to you, very thoroughly, why I'm so obsessed with you."

"Obsessed?"

"Yeah, not to freak you out, but, _obsessed_."

"Oh, that doesn't freak me out. If you're obsessed, I wanna know what the heck that makes me."

I chuckle. "That. Let's start with that. Your sense of humor is so… practical, yet sarcastic, yet playful, yet flirty… it's very unique and it turns me on," I inform her.

"You really do keep an eye on me."

"Yes, I wish you knew just how many nights I've actually fallen asleep in this friggin' bed because I prefer thinking about you."

She grins. I want to stare at Miley's face, but right now I want to listen to her voice a little bit more.

I lay my head on the pillow and Miley follows. Her forehead presses to the side of my head, above my ear, and her arm slings across my stomach.

I continue to talk. I tell her everything, even though I really only want to hear everything—from her. But I realize Miley probably wants to hear the same so that's what I'll give her.

I tell Miley about her eyes, her lips, the way she makes me feel, the things she does, just about everything.

And when I'm done my increasingly passionate rant, I don't see her smile, but feel her smile, and then I tell her about the ones before her that even added together couldn't compare to what's lying right beside me.

-

"So… Travis was in love with you?"

"Pretty much. But like I said, I think it was 'cause of me bein' his childhood sweetheart and nothin' happenin' to ruin it."

It's now 1:04 AM, four and a half hours have passed, and I've learned so much about Miley it almost makes the blood in my veins burn brighter for her, yet doesn't quite change my view on her. The things I have learned haven't changed my view; just shaped it a little more.

"I'm guessing you ended it when you changed schools"

"Yeah. He was crushed, but he understood. I never told him that my feelings for him just… died out. And I had a few flings here and there in the past few years, but nothing serious. You're my first serious… whatever we are, since Travis."

I lift myself over her and stare down at her, elbow northwest of her head. "What are we?" I say lowly. "I never really wanted to ask, I'm afraid of the answer…" We've been being bitingly honest, not to mention sentimental with each other all night and I don't want to break the trend just yet.

"What do you want us to be, Lilly?"

"What do _you_ want us to be?"

She bites her lip. "I know I want you to be mine and only mine. And I want to be yours. For as long as I can make it so. So if you want that too…"

I lean down and press my lips to her forehead. "I do."

"How does this work? Should I ask you to be my girlfriend?"

I pause. "Jeez… girlfriend… never would I have guessed I'd want a girlfriend."

"Yeah, same here. It's funny how we're in the same boat with that," she says, and I nod. She's never liked a girl before me but was beginning to question things when all of her previous relationships weren't doing anything for her.

"Do we even need to put a label on this, Miley?"

"No, but… when I go back t' school, and someone asks me if I have a boyfriend, what do I say?"

"I'm taken. That's all you say. Would you feel weird telling them if it's by another girl?"

"…No," she says after a long pause in which I'm pressed for air. I inhale and sigh with relief. "Because the girl is you."

It makes me smile because it comes from Miley. And also because I feel the exact same way.

"So, we're both taken. I like that."

"Me too. It's gonna be hard, Lilly…"

"It is, but… winter and spring break, we can spend together. And random weekends I can save up to fly out."

"Yeah, me too."

"Then maybe we can go to a school near each other after high school, and eventually move in together."

"You really thought 'bout this…" Miley says, staring seriously into my eyes.

"I did."

"I've only been thinkin' about the rest of this summer and everything but sayin' goodbye."

"It's not really goodbye, Miley… it's definitely a see you later. Remember that."

"I will."

-

It's 4:49 AM and I'm all wrapped up in Miley's voice and thoughts. Our voices are far past worn out and croaky. I especially like how hers sounds.

We lay tangled in each other liked aged vines. Legs between legs, arms encasing each other like an oxygen supply at the floor of the sea.

"…And that's when I learned that you need to love yourself before you can love anything else."

Miley has… countless good morals. Countless childhood memories she's passed on to me. Frightful ones, nauseating ones, heart-warming ones. So many ideas and thoughts that make her as beautiful inside as she is outside. And to think, there's so much I still don't know.

"I feel like I know you now. Not that I didn't before, but you know what I mean. I love how you trust me with all of this."

"Of course I do," she rasps. Then lowly, almost cautiously, she adds, "I love you, Lilly."

My eyes open wide, even though they sting slightly only since it's far past midnight. Its silent, finally, no voices that sound so loud in the small hours of morning bounce off the walls. Instead, the room is stiff and tense despite neither of our bodies have the energy to be.

"You don't have to say it back." Miley is completely calm. She means it.

"I love you, too. I kind of just realized today, but… I guess I shouldn't wait to tell you anything anymore. Especially after… well, tonight."

"What, after this talk? T' be honest," what ever comes out of Miley's mouth after the words 'T' be honest' makes me feel like a shaken up bottle of soda, my skin the plastic. Only good follows after those words, even before tonight. "I always felt so close to you. Since the moment I saw you."

"Yeah, I felt it too. This definitely happened for a reason. I think we were destined to be together." It's a large statement but it's been swimming around in my head for a while, if not right at this moment.

"Agreed. So… today?"

"Yeah. When we were sitting in that tree in your backyard."

"Your heaven?" she teases lightly around a lazy chuckle, quoting what I told her about an hour ago. Usually at this hour, I'd snap at that chuckle, but as I said, I'm just not horny for her physically right now; only mentally… if that makes sense.

"Yep. I was beginning to get angry with you, but then you kissed me and, as pathetic as this is, I couldn't _stay_ angry."

"Well, I _am_ a figure of higher being. The bearer and controller of your emotions," She's practically delusional and it's adorable and quite amusing. Her arms drawing my bare hips and lower back disappear and I find them over her head as she yawns. I must admit, as her body tenses and arches up, in which I take my weight off of her momentarily, I _do _feel an aching, yearning throb in my stomach. But I let it subside.

"I just wanna fall asleep with you," she says around a grin I hear. "This is so crazy… I guess it's kind of weird, but all I've wanted for the past two months was to fall asleep in your scent, sharing warmth with you."

I'm quiet for a moment, then I begin snickering. To be honest myself, I still can't get over she feels _the same_. "Oh Miley, just go write another song about me or something. Get things off your chest, already." Earlier she confessed that she's done so multiple times, and she plans to sing them for me soon.

She laughs. "I love you… and I love saying 'I love you'."

My mouth shapes into an even higher grin, the muscles in the bottom half of my face are practically numb by now since I've just been smiling incessantly for the past few hours.

"I love you too, Miley."

Miley sighs heavily and lets out a "hm..". I nuzzle my head into the crook of her neck; her skin is hot and slightly clammy because I've been breathing on it.

I rest my jaw on her collar bone so I can breathe. Her t-shirt I can scarcely see the wine red hue of in the moonlight shining in from above our heads is ridden up slightly, and half of the underside of my arm is on the hem of it, and half is on her warm skin. I lift it and place my fingers on her hip bone, and slide across into the dip of her v-cut (_Jesus Christ…_) then above where her bladder is, then to the symmetric half of her frankly sexy as _hell_ pelvic muscle, to her other hip bone.

I hope I'm not working her up, I hope I'm only calming her, and I hope she's comfortable as I swallow quietly and slip my fingers beneath her shirt. I feel the canyon of muscles and learn the four sections of her abdomen. I press a kiss to her neck and skim over her belly button. I reach to her opposite side and run my hand up and down her curve. I don't use my nails, just my palm and fingertips.

Is she awake? I lift my head to find her eyes closed and face impossibly peaceful. It seriously makes my heart melt.

Once I'm positive she's asleep, I reach over to my night table and grab my phone. I don't have any pictures of Miley since I deleted that other one. I snap a picture of her face and it's engraved into the memory of my phone as well as my mind.

I place the phone back on the night table and shift back down and press my ear close to her neck and jugular, the top of my head nestled under her chin. Her breathing is slow and deep.

"I love you, Miley Ray Stewart," I state for the third time in eight minutes.

She doesn't say it back but she doesn't have to.

-

**Boring but meaningful.**

**I think the chapter after this, or **_**possibly**_** the one after that will be the last. I don't have any ideas, really, for a new story so far, but I'm starting something after this anyway. Or maybe a collaboration could be in order if anyone's interested? Haha idk. Thank you so much for reading and responding, all that do. You all make me feel proud and happy to write. See ya:)**


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